Delver Magic
Book I
Sanctum’s Breach
Jeff Inlo
All rights Reserved.
120111208
I have tried to make this eBook available in as many formats
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know. Contact information can be found on my web site at www.sitelane.com.
By Jeff Inlo
Fantasy:
Delver Magic Book I – Sanctum’s Breach
Delver Magic Book II – Throne of Vengeance
Delver Magic Book III – Balance of Fate
Delver Magic Book IV – Nightmare's Shadow
Delver Magic Book V (Summer 2012)
Spiritual Thriller:
Soul View
Soul Chase
When Do I See God? (by Jeff Ianniello)
Science Fiction:
Alien Cradle
Humor:
Counterproductive Man
For Joan, without
you there would be no magic!
I would like to offer my very sincere thanks to Christine
Bell for all her diligence in reviewing my work. I would also like to thank J.
Armstrong for creating her web site directory of free online novels. A large
thank you is due all the helpful people at MobileRead for their support. I also wish to express my appreciation to all
those that have sent me emails. Your encouragement means more to me than I can
possibly convey in this short space. Finally, I wish to thank you for taking a
look at the Delver Magic series.
Countless seasons
pass.
I… exist.
Time continues.
I… am alone.
The world outside moves on, changes.
The light bends, reflects back to me.
More seasons
pass.
No. There is more beyond this. I am trapped.
People are born,
they live, they die. The cycle continues on and on.
I have power. I will be free.
A burst of power
shreds the silver lined reflective mirrors. It scatters the shadows that
surround it just as it shatters through the diamond hard reinforced ceiling. It
bends upward through another cavern searching for an outer wall. It tunnels through the rock side of an
imposing mountain until it is finally free.
Magic has
returned.
Near the town of
The people of
this region were not accustomed to earthquakes, though some had experienced a
small tremor perhaps once in their lifetimes. This, however, was no slight disturbance,
nor was it a massive quake that people of the west have often spoke of… an all
encompassing upheaval that spreads like ripples on disturbed water. This was
power unleashed yet also confined at the same time. The quake took the pure
form of a single rolling tremor, an unbroken line of chaos stretching north to
south, its ends out of sight. The land in front and behind the convulsion
remained calm and steady, but the ground at the point of the crest lifted up as
if it were being pushed away by a thousand angry souls long-buried in the soil.
The fury of the
disturbance lashed out upon all in its path. The few trees which spotted the
landscape as markers for farmers resisted the tremor, but as the upheaval
rolled past their roots, a few shifted to lean at slight angles from the
ground. Fence posts bolted into the air like thrown javelins. Shepherd dogs howled,
and the panicked livestock wandering the fields raced in every direction.
Fortunately, the ground did not split beneath them. Though the tremor tussled
them, threw them to and fro, no true injury befell a single animal.
The distress of
the animals caught the attention of the farmers. As they peered out among their
vast stretches of land, they witnessed the on-coming tremor. They stared with
dumbfounded shock. They had faced storms, draughts and floods. They had endured
swarms of crop eating insects and diseases which threatened their livestock.
They had suffered through all of this with perseverance, with a belief that
these were simply challenges to overcome. Never before had they encountered the
land itself rising up against them. They looked to the tremor with abhorrence,
as well as panic.
As the quake
rumbled onward, its path was unmistakable. It would first surge below their own
barns and houses before heading toward the very center of town. The potential
jeopardy broke the incapacitating shock, and farmers hastened to action.
Neighbors needed to be warned, animals tended.
The alarm spread
from the furthest limits inward to the more populated areas of Connel. From the
farmlands calls went out from neighbor to neighbor. A single word of
"Quake!" brought disbelief first, frenzy second as the never ending
rumble washed away any doubts.
In the town,
bells rang to alert the public. Shouts raged from the confusion, and soon, the
entire town raised an ear to the commotion. At Connel's heart, merchants and
citizens alike stumbled about with a near dazed sense of confusion. As of yet,
they could not see the tremor, but the word spread of it like fire on alcohol.
When the distant rumble caught their ears, they believed—and they feared what was
to come.
The farmhouses to
the far west were the first to feel the surging power. Strong men and women
raced to their animals, to free them from barns which they feared might
collapse. Horses and mules kicked at their stalls as farmers fought against
time and panic to open each barn door. They loosed their teams to the open
fields, knowing there they would be safe. They did not feel as secure about
themselves or their homes.
They braced
themselves over open ground as the rumbling bore down upon them. The dirt rose
beneath their feet, sending many of them sprawling. The surging disturbance
raised the ground above the height of a tall man's knees. Again, the soil did
not break. As quickly as it rose, it fell back, leveling out as if nothing had
happened.
The tremor rolled
apathetically beneath barns and farmhouses alike. The structures quivered with
the upheaval. They shook and rattled, they danced and moved. Dilapidated shacks
crumbled into muddled piles of wood and debris, but the sturdier buildings
withstood the barrage of force, sustaining only minor damage.
Farmers took back
to their feet. With a heavy breath of relief for their own safety, they watched
with concern as the ripple now raced toward Connel's center.
The next obstacle
in the path of the tremor was an ancient stonewall which surrounded most of the
town. Built generations ago, it stood as one of the oldest landmarks of Connel.
Only the Night Watch Inn, the
The wall's age
did not bring it any glory or respect. Its purpose or any battles fought at its
base had long been forgotten. The townspeople merely ignored it these days, or
viewed it as a nuisance when roads needed to be built extending beyond its
limits.
The wall was
wider than it was tall. Its height barely reached the shoulders of an average
man, but its stout thickness made it difficult to remove. Its substance of
heavy stone and mortar allowed it to survive these long ages with little wear.
Breaking through a section was a mighty task. Even the most skilled engineers
marveled at its intrinsic strength. More often than not, the soil was built up
around the wall, and any construction went over rather than through it.
Fortunately, though the wall encircled the entire town, it enclosed a wide
expanse of land. For whatever reason it was built, it far exceeded the original
outskirts of Connel’s earlier size. Connel expanded many times over the
centuries, and only now did it just begin to spill beyond certain sections of
the wall.
As the tremor
rolled in from the farmlands, the alerted townspeople looked toward the barrier
to gauge the strength of the rolling upheaval. The wave of energy would strike
the foundation of the wall before reaching any significant portion of the town.
Fearing more for their homes than for the existence of the ancient bulwark,
many hoped the stone construction would bear the full brunt of the tremor, thus
saving their shops, offices, and houses.
The tremor rolled
forward, ready to greet the wall with the full fury of its power. When it
struck, the barrier did not give. It did not shake, or for that matter react in
anyway whatsoever to the violence underneath it. Dirt and dust flew into the
air—a brown haze that followed the tremor like an obedient dog. It obscured the
clash only for a moment. As the dust settled, the true victor was obvious. The
wall remained in place; firm, strong and silent.
Strangely, after
passing beneath the ancient bulwark, the disturbance appeared smaller and
weaker. While it jostled the onlookers, it did not throw them with the same
force which bore upon the farmers. While large structures shook and trembled,
they did not rise from the ground or twist with great disorder. At the two
points where the tremor remained in contact with the ancient wall, the
disturbance was almost imperceptible. To the relief of the townspeople, the
tremor moved through Connel as if in weary retreat.
After passing
through the heart of the city and beyond the eastern limits, the rolling quake
reared up for one more massive head-on confrontation with the stone barrier.
The quake disappeared underneath the barrier which remained silent and
unmoving. When the tremor resurfaced, it cleared all contact with the wall. It
appeared to return to its original strength, and it rolled through the
clearings of the east with renewed power.
As the danger
passed, so too did the concern of the townspeople. The frenzy of the event
dissipated. The shouts and alarms ceased and the confusion disappeared. Slowly
but steadily, the people returned to their homes, thankful for the reprieve and
ready to discuss the excitement throughout the day. Inspectors and engineers
were dispatched to assess the damage, which was nearly nonexistent. A single
work crew set out to repair a few roads and one bridge.
As the day wore
on, most Connel residents quickly returned to their daily activities. Markets
opened as usual and people walked the streets with hardly a care. The land
remained calm from both the west and the east. With so little damage, the
tremor turned to nothing more than an oddity for idle chat.
To some, however,
the quake presented opportunity. The town council, consisting of four men and
one woman, all with business concerns and political aspirations, met that same
day to discuss the tremor.
They gathered in
the conference room of the town hall, a building of fairly recent construction.
The room was large but uninviting. Portraits of previous council members
adorned the walls. The faces in these paintings tried diligently to portray an
air of dignified importance. The current members carried themselves with the
same ingenuous attitude. They sat around an oblong oak meeting table. Stacks of
paper waited patiently for their review. The mayor, Edward Consprite, brought
the meeting to order.
"The first
thing we should do," he said with a deep voice, "is read the initial
damage reports into the record."
He placed a pair
of reading glasses upon the bridge of his pudgy nose and picked up the
engineer's preliminary report. He spoke clearly and firmly as he read the
findings aloud. His voice reaffirmed the overwhelming arrogance which exuded
from his person like the smell of day old fish. When finished, he waved the
papers pompously in front of him.
"I realize
that this report tells us nothing we don't already know," he exclaimed.
"I'm sure the rest of you did as I did and took a look around before
coming here. I saw nothing which would indicate that anyone received any true
damage. I do expect, however, that we will have to look out for those hoping to
make false claims. I'm sure there are more than a few undesirables that may see
this as a chance to gain access to public funds. You know what I mean, some
poor slob thinks his house is starting to wear down and will come to us saying
the quake damaged his home. He'll expect we use town funds to repair problems
that existed seasons ago. We simply can't allow that."
Consprite paused
for a moment and reflected upon his own devious thoughts. He shuffled papers
about as if looking for a particular report. "We also, however, should not
be so unsympathetic as to refuse funds to those that truly suffered damage.
After all, an earthquake is an act of God, so to speak. We have to help the
truly deserving members of our community in these trying times. I did notice
some small damage to some of the local establishments very near here. They only
appeared as small cracks in the foundation, but we can't let these things go
without quick repair. Some of these establishments serve every member on this
board. In order to show our gratitude, uh excuse me, our understanding to their
plight, I suggest we set aside ten percent of the town funds to refurbish these
local enterprises. Any objections?"
Samuel Cofort
spoke quickly and with an edge to his voice. "I will not object as long as
another two percent of the fund is apportioned for repairs to the town hall.
I'm sure this very meeting room, as well of some of the offices, might need
repairs. For all we know, the very chairs we are sitting on may have received
some unseen damage. It would be wise to correct such problems before anyone
gets hurt. I think it would also be a good idea to replace the older furniture
in our personal offices."
Consprite nodded
his head in knowing approval. "I agree, Samuel. Forgive me for being so
shortsighted as not to recognize such a splendid idea myself." He turned
his head to the others around the table. "Any other
suggestions?"
"I have a
question," Elizabeth Bent exclaimed with a challenging tone. Her position
as the only woman upon the council gave her status in the community, but she
thirsted for more. "Who will decide which establishments receive funds and
how much?"
Consprite did not
hesitate in responding. "We shall form a committee of two. As mayor, I
shall take one seat and, since you raised the concern, you will have the other.
The committee shall be responsible for distributing funds. Does this meet with
your approval?"
"Yes it
does," she replied with a guarded smile.
The final two
council members were about to object but Consprite, as was his way, spoke
quickly to make the situation quite clear. "Fine, with your support as
well as Samuel's, we already have the necessary three votes to approve the
measure. Although any opposition may be viewed as hostile toward the town in a
time of need, I will now ask any council member opposed to speak for the
record."
The room remained
quiet.
Consprite did not
allow the silence to prevail for long. "Now that we have quickly and
judiciously met the immediate needs created by this incident, I open the floor
to other suggestions on how we may best serve the town."
The councilwoman
again seized the opportunity to take the initiative. "I suggest we send
out investigators to the east and west. I think it may serve us well if we
identify how other areas fared against this small quake. Other towns may not
have been as fortunate as our own. There may be a need for labor and materials
of which we might be able to supply, for a fee of course."
"I
see," Consprite grunted as he placed a hand to his smoothly shaven chin.
The councilwoman
proceeded as the mayor continued to solemnly reflect upon the suggestion.
"I know of
many shopkeepers with a surplus of certain goods. I'm sure they would be
grateful if they found an immediate market for their items. There are also a
few artisans available that I'm sure would be willing to extend their talents
to out of town opportunities, especially if the price is right. While our town
is growing, there are still carpenters and masons eager to find new jobs. This
quake may have created such an opportunity."
"An
interesting proposal," Consprite hummed with an equally guarded tone. The
prospect seemed inviting, but he found it distasteful that the idea was
presented by Bent. He knew of her secret desires to unseat him as mayor. It was
his gift to see through the charade of others, to understand the motivations,
the aspirations, and the desires of both his friends and foes. He would only
allow Bent to take his place if he was able to move up the political ladder,
not down. Thus, he dealt with most of her proposals with great care. "And
how should we proceed with such an initiative?”
“I suggest we
send someone who will investigate and send us word of the situation before we
get involved. That way, we appear concerned with our neighbors but not
foolhardy. I suggest we hire delvers. They will move across the countryside far
faster than any of us. They can assess the situation and make first contact
with those needing the greatest help."
"Yes,
yes," Consprite said quickly. He turned a pen in his fingers. "This
is very true. We would not waste time or effort in the less lucrative areas.
Any delver worth his salt would surely give us a great advantage." He
looked up with a nod of acceptance. "I heartily approve."
"I oppose
the measure," Cofort said sullenly. "I do not trust delvers. They
always require large payments and no one can ever really tell if they do what
they say they do. No one can follow them, no one can check up on them."
"I realize
that delvers are expensive," Consprite admitted candidly, "but that's
because no one can do the job they can do. I also realize that it is difficult
to check on them, but just imagine if we sent out regular men. They would need
a week’s worth of supplies and equipment. Surely, that more than offsets the
larger payment for the services of a delver."
"But we
don't know that the damage to other towns was any worse than it was here,"
Cofort insisted. "If so, we will have paid a delver for
nothing."
"True, but it's also just as possible
that villages east and west of here may require a good deal of our supplies and
labor. I'm not willing to miss that opportunity."
Cofort heaved a
heavy sigh. He would not, however, give up his complaint so easily. "I
still say we can't trust them."
"I don't
really trust anyone," Consprite admitted in a cold voice. "And I
don't really care for delvers all that much, either. But they are, as I said
before, the best suited for this task. We're not asking them to guard our
funds, we're asking them to scout out territory, and that is what they do. Now,
I don't want to hear anymore about not wanting to hire delvers. We've done it
before, and they have come in most useful. I move that we enlist two delvers,
one to go due west and another to explore east. Who will second?"
"I second
the motion," the councilwoman said brusquely while she glared at Cofort.
"Fine. If there is no other opposition, the measure is
passed."
The final two
council members remained silent.
Consprite now
detected a chance to drop a potentially difficult problem into the
councilwoman's lap. Seeking out delvers was not always a favorable activity.
Their skills made them great spies and the ignorant often identified them with
treachery. It would certainly not do well for any of the council members if
they were seen cavorting with delvers and perhaps making secret deals. He
clasped his hands together and spoke almost innocently, as if that were
possible, about the prospect.
"It seems all we have to do now is find and hire delvers for the job. I think
#
The town council
was not alone in its interest over the quake. Members of the
This anxiety was
noticed by those who passed the church, but it was discounted. Town residents
simply shrugged or shook their heads. They considered what they knew of these
zealots, and rumor and gossip constantly questioned the very sanity of the
Godson sect.
On the whole, the
church and its small group of followers appeared gripped by legends of
nonsense, legends which included such bizarre creatures that anyone of rational
thought must dismiss as pure fable. If this church spoke of powerful mages and
sorcerers, where were such wizards today?
And what of these strange races which supposedly coexisted with humans?
It was all obvious madness. Yet, rumors raced wildly that this was the embodiment
of the church's beliefs.
The distaste for
the
#
Ryson Acumen, a
purebred delver, moved quickly on foot toward the setting sun. The soles of his
boots barely grazed the surface of the road, creating just enough impact to
propel him forward. The soft step reduced the chance of leaving a trail as well
as lessening the amount of friction which might slow him. The striking of foot
against ground conceived the lightest of sounds, nearly inaudible until he was
upon you. How strange this sight was; pumping legs moving like pistons at break
neck speed, yet with near silence and total control. He moved like most delvers
moved, as if blessed with the grace of an angel flying among the clouds.
While it appeared
this delver was running swiftly, in truth, Ryson was merely setting a
comfortable scouting pace. His face revealed his ease with the stride. His
mouth shut, breathing through his nose, he showed no signs of physical
exertion. He might as well have been resting upon a soft, feather bed. It was
the gift of the delver. He could keep this step for many hours without any
discomfort.
Ryson's physical
presentation included a trim, fit body; from his narrow shoulders down through
his long legs. His arms, also long but not to the point of gangly, draped
gracefully from his shoulders. His movements were always smooth and precise.
His face was only slightly narrower than most, and his features maintained the
balance. A crop of short, well-kept hair rode the top of his head. He grew his
hair longer once, but the rustling behind his ears interfered with his keen
hearing.
Still, with his
physical stature as it was, he needed only to act as the common man, and no one
would ever identify his delver heritage. But Ryson ran through the town at this
particular moment because his delver soul was filled with much too much
anticipation. Even as he pressed onward, his mind filled with memories of the
quake. The rumble of the tremor echoed as clearly in his mind as if it were
still passing under foot. It was not so much the tremor itself which thrilled
him, but the results which it may have left behind. It constituted the
opportunity for new exploration. It was this, as well as his meeting with
Elizabeth Bent, that drove him with eager anticipation.
As he moved
toward Connel's town square, he considered his earlier conversation with the
councilwoman. While he believed the quake would create an opportunity for his
skills, he never believed she would agree to pay so much. He blessed his own
luck as he considered his task, a task perfect for a delver. A task he might
have set out to complete on his own had he not found a willing employer.
Quakes were rare
in this part of the world. In fact, Ryson never experienced one before this
morning. He did know that they carried the power to change the land, land which
he scouted many times before. After watching the quake roll past Connel, Ryson
actually felt something call to him. The very air bristled with subtle changes
somewhere beyond the horizon. A deep instinct awakened and the desire to scout
the land emerged with great force. It pressed upon his senses to strike out and
investigate. Deep within him, he realized that what he had once examined and
had placed into his great memory was no longer the same. Perhaps the entire
With no family in
town, Ryson did not hesitate to begin his scout. As for equipment, a delver
needed little. That which was most important, he carried with him always. It
included a knife, a short rope, and a spyscope. Everything else, such as food
and shelter, could be found along the journey.
Thus, the able-bodied delver departed with no
further delay. With half of a sizeable payment already in his pouch, he moved
westward to the beckoning lands with euphoria. So great was his anticipation
over what he might find, he moved passed Connel's citizens with near disregard
until someone called for his attention.
"Delver!" A voice called out. It held a strong
tone, yet concern was also evident.
Ryson brought
himself to an immediate halt. Amazingly, the delver showed no sign of imbalance
at such an instantaneous stop.
He faced the
origin of the voice which called to him. He was already well aware of his exact
location, for he always kept his bearings when moving. With but a subtle glance
of familiar territory, a delver could reveal more about his surroundings than
an ordinary man could recite even after taking hours to study. He stood at the
steps of the
The leader,
dressed just as any other man of town, took a few steps downward and motioned
for Ryson to meet him halfway.
Ryson
acknowledged with a nod and slowly proceeded upward,
one step at a time. He stopped two steps below the church leader, yet high
enough to command a strategic view of the surrounding area.
"Yes
sir?" Ryson said reflecting a tone of politeness as well as respect.
"I am Reader
Matthew," the middle-aged man said plainly. If he was proud of his
position in his small church, it did not show in his tempered speech. He bowed
slightly at Ryson.
"I know,
sir," Ryson bowed in return.
Matthew showed
little emotion other than concern to a distant problem.
"And I am
aware that you are Ryson Acumen, full-blood delver."
"I am."
While Ryson
continued to feel a great urge to move quickly upon his quest, he curbed his
impatience. He waited respectfully for Reader Matthew to continue.
Matthew
acknowledged Ryson's honor with a thankful smile before returning a weary gaze
to the west.
"You are no
doubt setting out on a mission of exploration," the reader stated
succinctly. "You are moving west. It pleases me to see this. May I ask you
of your objectives?"
"Certainly,"
Ryson responded without hesitation. Councilwoman Bent said nothing about
maintaining secrecy over the matter; otherwise he would have kept a measure of
discretion. Instead, she made it plain that the entire town council had asked
for the delver's assistance. In fact, she was not at all cautious when making
her request. She had spoken as if she wanted everyone in the tavern to hear,
thus he treated the request as if it were public knowledge. "I'm to
explore the lands and towns west of Connel. After I've investigated how our
neighbors have fared against this morning's quake, I'll send reports back to
the town council by courier. I'm to report as to damage and the need for labor
and materials."
"How far are
you commissioned to travel?"
Ryson considered
the question for a moment before replying. "To Burbon
and Pinesway. That appeared to be the greatest concern. There's not much
beyond that that I think the council might be interested in."
"What are
your own personal objectives?" Matthew asked with a delicate tone.
Again Ryson
answered without hesitation, but he glanced over his shoulder as he spoke.
"I want to know more about this tremor, what it might have done."
Matthew nodded
his head. "That is good. I have a charge for you. I hope you will accept
it."
Ryson did not
speak. He waited for the reader to announce his request.
Matthew exhaled
deeply before continuing. "I need to know what has happened. I need to
know where this quake came from. And I also need to know how the land has
changed. I can offer you no payment. I can only hope that you will include me
in your reports. I will also hope that you continue your journey even if it
means venturing far beyond the limits of your original employer's wishes. I ask
that you continue west until you find the source of this quake, if of course
that's possible."
"I doubt
finding the source would be difficult," Ryson responded with certainty. It
was not with arrogance he spoke, but with calm confidence in understanding the
land. "All I have to do is find the area of greatest upheaval. That should
indicate where the quake began."
"Then will
you do this for me?"
Ryson reflected
upon the proposal with obvious hesitation.
His silence
brought anxiety to the reader. Not wishing to be turned down, the reader hoped
to entice the delver further. "If it is payment you need, I may be able to
scrape something together. We are a poor church, but this is of ..."
Ryson politely
interrupted. "It's not that. I've already been hired and I don't see a
conflict in sending you reports. I would also be more than happy to inform you
of what I find beyond my work for the council."
Hopeful
expectation blanketed the face of the reader. "Then you'll do it?"
"I don't
know if I can," Ryson responded with all honesty. He did not wish to
dampen the spirits of the reader, but he also felt the need not to misguide
him. "I’m not just dismissing your request, but I don’t know what I’m
going to find out there. Right now the source of the quake interests my
instincts enough so I want to know more, but that could change quickly
depending on what I find. It would be hard to follow a trail of dust if I come
across something of greater interest. Do you understand?"
"I do, but I
don't think that will be a problem," Matthew reflected. His expression still
held hope, yet it also included deep deliberation. He appeared to be placing
the limits of logic upon his own dilemma. With a satisfied nod of his head, he
continued. "If the quake does hold importance, for me as well as for you,
it will continue to pull upon you. If it does not, then my own anxieties over
the matter will be eased just as well. You are a delver with keen insights. I
simply have to trust your instincts."
Ryson kept his
eyes upon the reader, but he chose his words and tone carefully. He did not
wish to insult the reader, but Matthew's request, if not his concern, created
questions of his own. "If you don't mind, what is it that's bothering
you? I haven't had much contact with
people of your faith, but I've never known any of them to show such concern.
Your own admission has me wondering what you think I might find."
"The truth
is, I have no idea what you will find," the reader stated plainly, the
gleam in his eyes giving way to the resurgence of that which disturbed him.
"That is what truly bothers me. It has been some time since I have had to
deal with the unknown. I must admit, I do not like it."
"We all deal
with the unknown," Ryson commented with skepticism. "Forgive me for
saying so, but I still don't understand why it's upsetting you so much. I have
seen the people of your church face much more serious problems without showing
the same concern. Truthfully, I have always admired that. Because I want to
help you find what it is you're looking for, I have to ask again, what makes
this quake so distressing?"
Matthew smiled
upon the delver. "You honor your people. If that has not been said to you
before, it is long overdue. You show respect with honesty. I shall try to do
the same. The truth is that we do not face the unknown as the rest of the town.
We are blessed with knowledge of things to come. People of this church follow
the Book of Godson. It contains many prophesies, but it describes them in
elaborate fashion. An ordinary follower or reader, including myself, has a
difficult time understanding the true meaning. Roughly ten cycles ago, however,
we were blessed by a visit from a believer with a great power of understanding.
I will not reveal his name out of respect for his own wishes. During his stay,
he revealed to us the meaning of many of the prophesies.
He explained them clearly and in our own language, and he actually told us what
to expect over the many cycles to come. Amazingly, each and every one of his
interpretations occurred just as he explained. We studied his work and soon we
were prepared for every major event which would affect this land before it
would even happen. When we heard rumors, we knew which were true and which were
not. The interpretations have guided us in that respect and we have relied on
them ever since.
"To the
people of this church, the interpretations have become a great source of
strength and hope. They project great things for those that hold to the works
of Godson. The interpreter told us of a time when this land would become a
place of peace. While I can not reveal to you his work, I can tell you that
many of the prophesies have not occurred and are not
scheduled to occur for many cycles."
"I really
don't see what the problem is," Ryson admitted.
"The problem
is that this quake was not prophesied to us. The translator made no mention of
such an event in any of his writings. Yet, we have grown accustomed to knowing
such events before they occur. Unfortunately, this morning we faced the quake
just as the rest of the town, with no warning and no idea that it was coming.
For us, this is most unusual. It is also most discomforting. Some of our
members are wondering if the interpretations are now in danger of failing. This
would be a terrible event, for we have grown to base all of our hopes on these
same interpretations."
"What has
the translator to say of this?"
"We can not
ask him. His stay with us was only for a few seasons. Such was his way. He
would stay temporarily at each church explaining the meaning of the prophesies before moving on to the next. If he were
here, he might be able to explain what is wrong, but he is not."
Ryson considered
the tale, scratched the side of his face as he offered his own explanation.
"Could he have just missed this one? Or maybe it wasn't even in the
prophecies."
The reader shook
his head. "Every major event has been prophesied and translated for us. I
can't believe he missed it."
"What if it
wasn't a major event?" Ryson offered. "Maybe this was just a minor
incident?"
"Is that
what you really think?" the reader eyed him questioningly.
The delver raised
an eyebrow and sniffed the air around him. To his senses, he already noticed
subtle alterations. "I'm not sure. I sense changes, something in the air. But how important… I just don’t know."
"I'm sure
you can sense things which are beyond my reckoning," the reader allowed
and once again his focus shifted to the lands to the west, "but what about
the tremor itself? Wouldn't you consider experiencing a quake in these parts as
out of the ordinary? I'm not even sure of when the last recorded tremor came
upon these lands."
"I would
have to agree. The actual quake was a unique event. But who knows how important
it really was?" Ryson kicked lightly at the stone steps of the ancient
church. "From what I've seen so far, the quake has done little to leave
its mark. There's hardly a damaged building to be found. Maybe that's why your
prophet failed to alert you to its coming."
"I have
thought of this myself,” the reader allowed. “It is what I'm saying to comfort
the others. It is not, however, making any of us rest easier. We have spent
much of the day going over the work of the translator in hopes of finding
something we might have missed. We have even gone as far as attempting to
interpret prophesies in different ways. We have not done this since the
translator made his visit. But our attempts have been useless. It's a daunting
task and we have not been able to find any reference to this strange tremor. It
continues to disturb us all, and as I look upon you, my doubts become even
heavier."
Ryson looked
thoughtfully at the reader. "Why is that? Have I said anything which
bothered you?"
"No,
no!" Matthew said apologetically. "It is not in what you have said.
Instead, it is in the heightened excitement I sense within you. Your natural
instincts are driving you to explore the lands and investigate what has
happened. I can see that and that is precisely what worries me. I think your
powerful senses might be telling us that there is something important out
there."
Ryson shook his
head doubtfully. "I wouldn't be so certain. I admit my urge is strong, but
I've never been able to rely upon that with any certainty. There may be nothing
more to see than a few cracks in the land or a broken road. I simply won't be
able to tell what's out there until I take a look."
Matthew nodded in
agreement. "That is why I have made this request of you. If you report to
us that the quake left little mark on our world, than we will all sleep
easier."
Ryson held out
his hand in friendly reassurance. "Then, I’ll ask you to relax, for now.
I'll include you in my reports, and I’ll let you know if there is anything to
worry about only when I find it. Due to the nature of your concerns, I will
limit my reports to include only the changes I find and not to those seeking
supplies or building materials," Ryson smiled broadly in hopes of breaking
the tension which gripped the reader.
The reader
chuckled. "Thank you. I doubt we could offer any real help. Leave that to
the council."
"I
will," Ryson replied with a continued smile, "but I will tell you
what I see and what I find. I'll let you interpret this as you see fit. As to
finding the source of the quake, I'll make every attempt to find it, but if I
do break off my search, I will send you word."
"That is all
I can ask, even more." The reader placed his hand upon Ryson's shoulder.
"Go now and do not hesitate to report any of your findings. I need to know
the bad as well as the good."
At its infancy,
Connel sat nestled on the edge of the largest pine forest in the
As Connel became
more populated, pioneers moved further beyond its limits. Dark Spruce began to
shrink steadily as thousands of trees were cleared to create the outlying
farmlands. Two new western outposts were also developed, though in much more
recent history. The settling of these towns and the increase in farming
eventually removed the forest from Connel's sight. While Dark Spruce remained a
large stretch of woodland to the south and southwest, the vein which strove
northward was reduced to a narrow band. This thin extension served as a small
border between the newly colonized towns and the western mountains.
At the outset of
his exploration, Ryson scoured the countryside to the immediate west of Connel.
He concentrated first on the pastures and farmlands. Moving on foot at speeds
defying human understanding, he covered wide areas while the sun barely moved
overhead. His eyes scanned the wide-open lands. He stopped only momentarily to
speak with farmers in the field or merchants on the road. To his satisfaction,
these outlying lands received little damage.
Finding only
traces of the quake's path in the farmlands, he turned his attention to the
neighboring outposts, Burbon and Pinesway. Each received more damage than
Connel, but nothing which could not be repaired within a season or two. A few
buildings had suffered structural impairment and more than one road had crumbled,
but the lasting consequences of the tremor were insignificant. Like nothing
more than a strong storm passing through the night, the quake had come and
gone. The damage was merely temporary as no lives were lost and no permanent
alterations in the land could be found.
Ryson's
investigations within the towns took greater time than his explorations over
the open flatlands. Most of those he met were not accustomed to his pace, and
the delver slowed to match their needs. Days passed as he made several contacts
with people of both towns. He promised them additional
supplies and labor from Connel at prices to be negotiated with a second
representative, probably councilwoman Bent.
During this time,
he dispatched messages to the council and to Reader Matthew. He detailed his
findings, described the degree of all damage. He continued his investigation
until he assessed all prospective sites that would be of interest to the
council. He sent a final message appraising them of everything he had discovered.
He advised one member to make the journey to represent Connel and offered his
own estimates of needed supplies. With his duty to the council fulfilled, he
turned his attention back to the path of the quake. He sent word to the reader
that following the quake's path would lead him into the dense tree-covered
regions of Dark Spruce. The lack of any villages within the forest would create
a lag before he could send his next communication. He ended his note by
promising to forward another message as soon as possible.
Ryson moved
westward without further delay. After passing beyond the limits of Pinesway, he
soon entered the vast forest. At his point of entry into the woodlands, no road
broke through the trees and no footpath existed for travel. A staggered
multitude of tree trunks filled the landscape, created a broken labyrinth of
infinite paths. While underbrush was light, due to the dense shade of the
evergreens, the ground remained uneven and rocky. Large roots jutted up from
the soil, creating even more obstacles. Ryson glided over such hindrances as if
they did not exist.
He carried
nothing which might impede his progress. Even as he advanced into pure
wilderness, he ignored thoughts of extra rations of food or water. He brought
nothing more than his basic supplies. The forest itself would provide Ryson
with everything he needed. Food and shelter were plentiful. He would eat the
seeds, nuts, and succulent fruits of all the indigenous trees. He would drink
from streams or dig below the roots for ground water. He would sleep within the
pines, using the thick branches for shelter and security.
As for getting
lost in such a dense forest, that remained a human calamity. Humans saw the
forest as an obstacle between two points. They conceived themselves lost when
they could no longer determine the correct path toward their destination or
back to their point of departure. A delver, however, was never lost, for a
delver did not think in terms of which was the correct path. Even a forest as
large as Dark Spruce was viewed in whole. Being lost meant being unable to find
a way. For someone with Ryson's skills, there was always a way to travel, a
path to cross.
Ryson explored
Dark Spruce on previous occasions. The largest and closest forest to his adopted
home of Connel often enticed him. Pioneers looking for new lands to conquer
would also employ him for such missions. In his first trips to the northern
branch, he actually began his investigations with great anticipation. Such an
immense area must have held untold secrets. To his disappointment, he never
found anything more than the legion of ancient trees. Large sturdy trunks
growing boldly to the sky filled the landscape with a universal sameness. The
number of branches remained somewhat stunted at ground level, but they
increased as one looked skyward. They created a complete blanket of green which
could block out the sun with ease. Ryson's eyes faced little difficulty, for
they could adjust to even greater darkness, but for his own desires, the forest
held little for him to see.
As the delver
entered Dark Spruce upon this day, he did so with only slight arousal. The
forest held out no special enticement. It only offered the trail of the quake;
slightly uprooted trees and shifted broken soil. The traces of the disturbance
granted only a slight distraction from the monotony of Dark Spruce, and he
walked and climbed for half the morning before he found anything of true
interest.
As the sounds of
Pinesway faded from his acute hearing, he began to pick up the faint traces of
a pungent odor. As he raced onward, he discovered larger pockets of the
objectionable scent lingering about. It piqued his curiosity, called for his
attention. The smell hung heavy in the air. It smelled of rot. The decay, however,
was out of place. It was not the decomposition of the forest which created this
odor. It was simply too powerful to be the emanation of rotting leaves or
grass.
As the stench
became more prevalent, so did the delver's curiosity. Ryson stopped. He paused
to take a greater sample of the air through his nose. His nostrils flared. He
turned about to sniff the light breeze which filtered through the branches
overhead. Part of the rank odor became unmistakable. It held the ghastly smell
of rotting flesh. Perhaps an animal, a large animal like a deer, died somewhere
nearby. Yet, the smell also contained traces of another scent, an odor which
separated itself from the decay. Unique in its properties, Ryson could only
liken it to the static smell of a summer lightning storm. Even the very air
which contained the stench seemed charged.
Unable to
distinguish anything more from the odor, Ryson pushed forward, but he moved
with a mind to this new mystery. His concentration shifted away from the quake,
and the instincts which were his as a delver began to guide him. The secret
behind the stench became his mission.
As he stepped
forward, the scent did not always become noticeably stronger. In certain
places, it remained constant and Ryson found it difficult to choose a
direction. More than once, he circled about his current position before
selecting a path. To the delver's satisfaction, the smell did not dissipate. It
continued to beckon him and overpowered anything else which might call to his
attention.
With thoughts of
the quake almost extinct, the delver began to break in a southern direction.
With his nose in the air, he paid little attention to the growing thickness of
the trees. Greater coverage of branches overhead blocked more and more of the
sunlight. The ground stretched out before him, etched with crusty, bark covered
trunks and obscured in shady darkness. He continued to move with the fluid
grace befitting a true delver. His stride carried him faster than the running
of a frightened rabbit, and his ability to step lightly over uneven ground kept
him from stumbling upon the bulging roots.
With Ryson's
attention fixed solely upon what his nose revealed to him, he relied little
upon his sight. His vision simply aided him in crossing the forest, until it
revealed to him the object of his search.
Ryson stopped
immediately. His senses erupted as the unimaginable stood before him. The
stench leaped in potency, at least tenfold, and there was no doubt that it was
indeed the outpouring of rotting flesh. But this, this was no deer. It was a
man, or what was left of one.
The degree of
decay was staggering. The flesh cracked and shriveled, split and oozed. The
stench and the pus attracted insects of all sizes. Flies, big and small, buzzed
about like a shifting, black cloud. They landed on loose flesh and scurried
about exposed bone. Hundreds of fluttering insect wings created a crescendo of
a hissing sizzle.
This lonely
traveler, pioneer or scout, must have been dead for weeks, maybe even months,
such was the indication of the decay. Yet, it stood. It stood like a frozen ice
sculpture or a stone statue. It stood and gazed at Ryson with one lifeless eye.
The other had rotted completely away. Ryson could see into the empty socket,
and he could look upon the edges of the skull which surrounded it. The left
side of the body apparently decomposed faster than the other. Upon the same
side as the vacant eye socket, most of the flesh around the arm was missing.
Much of the left forearm bone stood revealed. The oozing flesh also hung
loosely about the left hand.
In the other
hand, which remained more or less intact, the fingers grasped a long thick
branch. Its tip had been shaved into a fine point. Though the spear-like weapon
remained firmly in the grip of this half-corpse, half-skeleton, it hung
suspended in the air and offered no explanation as to what allowed the corpse
to remain upright. The dead sentinel stood of its own accord, upon its own two
decaying feet.
Ryson turned his
disbelieving eyes back upon the face. He noticed the lips had rotted clean
away, revealing a ghastly grin. The sight was too much, and the delver forced
himself to turn away.
As he did, his
ears caught the sound of unsteady footsteps. Ryson lifted his head, and noted
the flash of movement coming his way. With great speed and balance, he jumped
aside before understanding his plight. As the breeze of a slashing stick passed
over his shoulder, he refocused his attention, though he could not fathom his
dilemma. It was the spear of the corpse which slashed at him, and it remained
in the same rotting hand.
"Godson!"
the delver exclaimed in shock. He took retreating steps as the corpse turned itself slowly. Ryson watched in horror and disbelief. The
decaying body was moving.
The corpse,
however, defied logic, defied reality. It redirected itself back at Ryson and
again swung its shaft with malice. It voiced no sound. Only the crackling turn
of exposed bone echoed from its figure, and that was nearly drowned out by the
hum of flies which followed in a dancing swarm.
Ryson's speed
again helped him escape the attack, but little helped his mind escape the
horror. Even as he stepped out of harm's way, he could not truly comprehend
what he was seeing. He moved out of instinct. It saved his life, but it did not
restore the hold of his senses.
As this living
corpse turned and faced Ryson once more, the delver made every attempt to
rationalize his predicament. Perhaps this thing was not yet dead, perhaps by
some miracle it held onto the smallest spark of life. How else could it move
toward him? How else could it attack,
unless it somehow remained alive? But this was impossible. There was no blood
flowing from the open wounds, there was no sign of breathing through those
sinister teeth. Nothing like this could live, yet still it moved.
Before the corpse
could make another attempt at the delver's life, Ryson finally gained greater
control of his own movements. He began to step away and use the surrounding
trees as cover. He scurried about like a lost child while he assessed this
preposterous situation and questions steamrolled through his mind.
"Who are
you?" he demanded with only a hint of panic in his voice.
The creature did
not respond. It only circled about the trees hoping to get a clear shot at its
prey.
Ryson tried to
maintain his composure. He checked his fear as he continued to move, using his
speed to his advantage. He kept a safe distance and at least two trees between
himself and the corpse as he watched the creature carefully. The more he
watched the more confused he became. With muscle and tissue missing from many
parts of its body, movement should have been impossible. But apparently, these
facts held little meaning. The creature continued its prodding, unyielding
attack. It proved its ability to turn, move, and fight even as rotting flesh
dropped off its visible bones.
Unable to find
any understanding in what he witnessed, Ryson made another attempt to
communicate with this atrocity.
"What are
you? What are you doing?"
The creature made
no sound. No words or even groans escaped its rotted mouth. It offered no
explanation for its existence, extended no reason for its attack.
Ryson inhaled
deeply, hoping to ease his growing terror. His lungs filled with the stench
polluted air, and he coughed it out vigorously. His eyes watered as he fought
off the sickness which filled him.
At that moment,
the corpse moved with a swiftness it previously hid. It darted from behind one
tree and found a position within two body lengths of its target. Nothing but
open space stood between it and the delver. It veered back before hurling its
pointed shaft with deadly intentions.
Ryson, still
choking out the foul air, dropped to the ground instinctively. The spear grazed
his hair before gliding well out of reach. His hand flew to the top of his head
to check for injury. After brushing his fingers through his hair, he pulled his
hand to the front of his face. No blood.
Sprawled over the
hard ground and protruding roots, Ryson remained vulnerable. He tried to roll
backwards away from the last known position of the corpse. He barely turned at
all when his motion was brought to a dead halt. His back hit a solid tree trunk
with a resounding thud. He gulped back a sting of pain. His eyes widened in
panic as he realized he was prone and backed against a tree, hardly an enviable
position to avoid further attack.
With a swirl of
his head, he picked up sight of the corpse. It made no attempt to retrieve its
spear. Instead, it moved unerringly towards him, apparently ready to block any
attempt of escape.
The delver bit
back his own terror. Using his great agility, he swung his legs about and came to
his knees. He was about to spring to his feet with the intention of climbing
the great tree behind him when the corpse unexpectedly leapt forward.
The creature
actually flew across the air with a powerful bound. The impact was heavy. It
sent the delver back into the trunk. Upon contact, the corpse immediately took
hold of its quarry. Even as the two combatants deflected off the tree and went
rolling, the frightful attacker maintained a grip on its intended victim. The
cloud of flies now swarmed over both the corpse and the delver as the two
became a united mass of flailing limbs.
Ryson used the
momentum of impact to continue rolling to an area of open ground. He dug his
knees, elbows and feet fiercely into the dirt and propelled himself with all
his strength. He pounded a free hand into the midsection of his attacker and dropped a heavy
shoulder into its chest.
The energized
carcass showed no sign of pain. It hung tightly, and it slowly moved its grasp
closer and closer to Ryson's throat.
The delver felt
the pointed, hard bones of the creature's left hand. They dug first into his
side and then into his chest. His mind ached with panic. He whipped his own
hand to his belt. His fingers opened his pouch deftly and reached inside. He pulled
his dagger free and jabbed it into the center of the corpse. He pushed forward
with all his might until every inch of the blade buried itself deep within the
rotting skin.
The creature had
no reaction. It did not slow its own deliberate assault. Within a heartbeat, it
had its putrid hands about the delver's neck. The hard finger bones began to
clamp down.
"No!"
Ryson screamed before the thing could crush his windpipe. He released his hold
on his dagger. With unbridled fury, stoked by the will to live, Ryson threw his
arms upward. His forearms crashed into the wrists of the corpse. Such was the
force of contact, that the boney left wrist snapped, and the creature's hand
went sailing into the brush. The hold was broken, and Ryson scampered off to a
safe distance.
The corpse showed
no sign of distress over losing its hand. It also showed no sign of tiring. It
moved to its feet, brought its focus back upon Ryson, and again, it moved
forward.
The delver's
shoulders drooped in disbelief. Mental fatigue, more then physical weariness,
hung upon him even as he moved carefully away. As he waved the buzzing insects
from his face, he considered turning and running for safety. Even as tired as
he was, he believed he could quickly outdistance his foe. He condemned the
thought, for it offered no answers, but it appeared his only option. With no
other weapon, he had no way of stopping it.
Just as he made
his decision, a call from the tree above him held him in place.
"Hold your
ground!" an order called out.
Unthinkingly,
Ryson's gaze flew upward.
The corpse
ignored the call and saw yet another opportunity to reach its prey. It again
moved with great speed and an extended right arm.
Before the arm
could reach its target, another form dropped into the fray. A strange man
landed upon the ground directly between Ryson and the attacking creature. He
was slightly taller than Ryson, but not by much. He was also thinner, yet his
muscles were more defined.
With grace and speed
that even a delver might envy, the man drew a gleaming sword. The blade was as
long as his arm, but only as wide as two of his fingers pressed together. It
gleamed with razor sharpness on both its edges. With one quick stroke, the
blade sliced through the air as well as the upper portion of the creature's
right arm.
The arm fell to
the ground, and for the first time, the corpse paused in its attack. It stood
motionless. It stared at the lifeless arm upon the ground as if contemplating
its meaning. The flies also faced indecision. They buzzed back and forth from
the amputated arm to the main body of the corpse.
The newly arrived
stranger did not show any such hesitation. He leaned to one side, and with a
great sweeping motion, sent his blade flashing towards the legs of the cadaver.
The stranger stepped into his swing, doubling the force of the blow as it
struck at the knees. Both legs snapped in half and the corpse folded to the
ground.
Ryson stared at
the crumpled figure, his gaze fixed upon the heap of bones and rotting flesh.
Just as he exhaled with relief, he thought he noticed a light blue glow fizzle
about the remains. No further movement occurred, other than the swarming flies
which now appeared content to buzz about the motionless remains. The delver
found his voice to mumble a confused question.
"Is it
dead?"
"It has been
dead for many days," the stranger said sadly, revealing some greater
concern.
"What are
you talking about?!" The delver's eyes widened as he turned his stare upon
the stranger.
His outlandish
confrontation still fresh in his mind, Ryson failed to question the appearance
of the newcomer, and instead, his thoughts remained fixed upon the corpse.
Confusion swirled in his brain.
"How can you
say that?" Ryson gasped. "If it were dead, how could it move? You
must have seen it for yourself. Didn't you see it trying to attack me?"
"That I
did." The stranger looked thoughtfully at Ryson. "To perhaps all our
dismay, it seems the dead can now be brought back to a sense of life. I despise
calling it that, for it is not life at all. Animation.
Forced energy. Nothing more."
The delver's
bewilderment only increased.
"What?"
It was all he could manage to blurt out.
"Magic, I'm
afraid," the stranger said distressfully. "It only proves what I
already know. The sphere must be free. That is the only answer. It must be. It
would explain all that has happened. I could not fathom as to who has gained
possession. The thought is too difficult to bear."
The delver found
only puzzles in the words of the stranger. He clasped his hands in great
torment. His voice held the tone of unreasoning bewilderment. "What… what
are you talking about? I don't understand what's going on. None of this makes
any sense!"
"It makes
all too much sense. Try to calm yourself and I will try to explain. This will
not be easy to accept. It's not easy for me, yet it does not surprise me. You
were attacked by the undead, sprung from magic long absent from Uton. I would
guess that loosened energies are sailing in every direction even as we talk.
The remnants of a spell captured long ago, now released, must
have found this half-rotten corpse of some wayward traveler. The magic found
its home and animated the body. You were simply unfortunate enough to come
across its path."
Ryson shook his
head vehemently. "That's not possible. What you're saying is simply not
possible."
"Isn't
it?" the stranger said firmly. "Speak of possibilities and explain to
me what you yourself have witnessed. Perhaps many days ago it was not possible,
but it appears that this is no longer the case. I tell you the magic is free,
and we now face everything that goes with it."
Ryson was aghast.
"So you're telling me the dead will start rising all over?"
"No. There
will be others, that is for sure, but the magic will
take different paths. It depends on many things. Unfortunately, I lack
information."
Ryson stared back
at the now lifeless heap of rotting flesh. Fatigue, confusion, even despair,
crashed upon his every thought. He fought to seize shreds of logic, answers to
this unthinkable puzzle. He found nothing but greater turmoil.
"You are
human?" the stranger's voice questioned firmly. There was little sign of
compassion for the delver's confusion.
Ryson finally
forced his gaze completely from the broken mass which previously hoped to kill
him. He focused upon the face of the man that came to his aid and now stood
before him. The stranger had brown, thin hair that hung straight down and clung
to his head and neck. It covered his ears fully before ending at the tops of
his shoulders. Over which, he wore a heavy wooden long bow and a quiver of
arrows. His face looked as ordinary as anyone's, except for the nose which
appeared small and slightly pointed.
"I'm a
delver," Ryson finally answered. The question brought some sense of hard
reality. Stating a simple fact seemed to reassure his troubled thoughts.
Finding momentary sanctuary in such feelings, he focused upon the question.
"Why do you ask?"
The stranger
revealed a hint of hopefulness at Ryson's response.
"Truly? You are a delver? Full-bred?"
"Yes. Again,
why do you ask?"
The stranger
ignored the question as he reflected upon his own thoughts. "A
delver," he mumbled to himself. "Perhaps a
blessing. Difficult to say without more
information."
"What are
you talking about?" Ryson demanded. His confusion grew into annoyance.
"First, you tell me about the undead and strange magic. Then, you say
there might be more. You ask if I'm human, but you stand there talking to
yourself when you find out I'm a delver. Are we in danger or not?"
"Relax. You
are safe for now. Perhaps safer than I. I asked if you
were human because I watched you fight. You moved with great speed and agility.
I could not believe you were an ordinary human. I thought you might be
half-bred. Although they are scarce, they do exist. I myself have never seen
one."
"You mean
half-delver, half-human? You haven't seen one before? I've met hundreds."
"No. I mean
half-human, half-elf."
“Elf?!”
Again, Ryson
Acumen's eyes widened in disbelief. He now stared angrily at the brown haired
man. The word burned in his mind. This was too much. His despair blossomed into
near rage. Was it not enough for him to have dealt with the atrocity of the
undead? Would he now have to listen to
this stranger cast stories about ancient legends? The explanation of magic animating this pile
of rotted flesh and bones was enough to stir his anger, but this, this was too
much to handle. Rage took hold of his thoughts, a burning spark ignited into a
roaring flame and Ryson snapped with a harangue directed at the stranger's
apparent disregard for ancient folklore.
"That's
enough! I’m not going to listen to anymore of this. I don’t know who you are,
but that’s enough. You might think I'm fool enough to believe your story about
magic, but I won't stand here and listen to anymore! You want to try and make a
fool of me by talking about magic, well that's fine, but when you talk about
elves you're talking about things you probably don't even understand. You're
speaking about legends, myths I may not believe but there are others who do.
Who in the name of Godson are you to make light of such things?!"
At first the
interloper watched in wide-eyed wonder at the delver's outburst. He was
certainly not prepared for such a tongue-lashing and he gaped at Ryson for the
first few lines of the angry lecture. Finally, he made an attempt to explain.
"Please hold your anger. I assure you I am not making light of the
legends. Nothing could be further from my mind."
Ryson's anger
barely subsided. "Then, why are you questioning me about elves?" he
demanded in a strained tone.
For the first
time the stranger showed a gleam of compassion for the delver. He spoke softer
and with greater warmth. He sheathed his sword and put his arms behind his
back. "First allow me to introduce myself. I am Lief Woodson. I am happy
to see you defend what you call myths so vigorously, but I assure you, they are
not myths. The teachings to which you refer are based on a reality of long ago.
It is a reality, however, which all may have to accept once more."
Ryson finally
checked his anger. While the words of the stranger held no more clarity than
before, at least his own outburst released the strain of his encounter with the
living dead. "I still don't know what you're talking about, but I want to
make one thing clear. I know about the legends. I was taught long ago to
respect them. That means if you're going to try and make up lies, I won't stand
here listening to you. I'll go my own way and find out what I can on my own.
I'm not ungrateful to you for saving me, but your words are disrespectful. Not
to me, but to others."
Lief Woodson
smiled broadly. He even allowed himself to laugh lightly, but only for a scant
moment. "You must indeed be a delver, for no human would treat the legends
with such respect. Forgive me for laughing, I do not laugh at you. I have
witnessed many disconcerting things these past few days. To listen to you
sparks a hope deep within me. But let me assure you, I do not abuse those
things which you call myths. They are, however, not myths. They were, are, and
always shall be reality. I am part of the legends themselves. As you are
purebred delver, I am full-bred elf."
Lief pulled his
hair back and away from the sides of his head and he exposed his ears for Ryson
to witness the pointed tips.
"It is the
one true physical characteristic which parts us clearly from the humans,"
Lief said. "The other differences are not so visible."
"You're an
elf!" Ryson exclaimed.
The delver stared
at each pointed ear until Lief released his hair and covered them once more.
The delver dropped his gaze to the ground and brought his own hand to his
forehead.
"What am I
saying?" the delver moaned. "How was I to know that elves exist?
They're not supposed to exist. And the dead aren't supposed to rise. And magic
is something for sideshow illusionists and fairy tales. What's happening here?!
What's happening to me?!"
Lief spoke slowly
and reassuringly to the delver. "I will tell you all I can. I will tell
you of things you may refuse to believe, for I will almost assuredly destroy
your previous outlook of this world."
"I don't
know what to believe anymore," Ryson groaned with all honesty. His
thoughts were a whirlwind. Logic failed to bring light to his scattered mind.
He could not erase the image of the walking dead, as he could not avoid casting
disbelieving glance after disbelieving glance at his new found companion. The
elf's words were no more than a buzzing in his ear which he strained to hear.
"I don't
know exactly how much you know of the legends," Lief Woodson continued.
"Perhaps what you have heard is only the barest reference to the
past."
Ryson kicked at
the ground slowly. Seizing upon something he could answer with certainty, he
spoke of his own knowledge on the subject. "I've probably heard more than
most," he admitted. "My parents wanted me to be acquainted with the
legends, not so I would believe them, but so I would be aware of what others
thought. I guess it's part of being a delver."
"You may
wish to thank your parents for that some day. If it is true, you may well be
better prepared for what I see as inevitable."
The delver
brought his focus back to the face of the elf. He stared deeply into Lief's
eyes. "Tell me the truth, what's happening? What in the name of Godson is
going on?"
Lief attempted to show even greater compassion. His own
distress, however, became growingly apparent.
"I believe I
know," the elf stated, "though others in my camp continue to reject
the idea. The existence of the undead, however, confirms my theory. The only
question which remains is how it has occurred. The Sphere of Ingar is free from
its containment. It is the only answer."
"Ingar's sphere?"
"You know of
it?"
"Of course I
know of it,” Ryson replied. “It's the most important of the legends. It’s
supposed to explain how the world rid itself of magic and the dark
creatures."
Lief nodded to the pile of broken bones and flesh before them.
"As you saw for yourself, the dark creatures have returned. Magic is also
loose in the land. The blue glow which left the corpse, that was spell
remnants. Magic. Perhaps, dark
sorcery. Nothing else can explain it."
"But the Sphere of Ingar? Come on! Do you really expect
me to believe that?"
"I expect
nothing," Lief frowned
"But you're
telling me these things. You must be hoping to convince me of them."
"What would
you have me do?" the elf questioned with a tone of harshness. "You
have asked me what is happening. I am telling you what I believe to be true.
Should I tell you that I am not an elf and that this corpse did not come to
life? What is it you expect of me?"
Ryson sighed
heavily. He did not know what he wanted. If these were the true answers to his
questions, they left only more puzzles. "You have to forgive me, but I
need a moment to sort this out. What you're saying defies all logic."
"I
understand," the elf grumbled grudgingly. "Take a moment to gather yourself, but be warned, I can not totally disregard time. I
must return to my camp to warn them of this. The elves are in great
peril."
Ryson did not ask
for further explanation on that point. Enough confusing, contradictory thoughts
bounded through his mind as it was. The last thing he needed was to hear of
more outlandish tales. Still, if Lief was right, he had to consider the
outlandish; the myths and the legends. His mind rolled back to the tales he
learned as a child.
The image of his
mother came firmly into mind. He could see her in the kitchen at the holidays.
He remembered being young and eager to learn everything. He listened with great
intent as she began her teachings of the old stories. He could almost smell the
baking of bread and hear her reassuring voice as he reflected upon elf tales
and the legend of Ingar.
His mind then
shifted to an image of his father who taught him how to use his abilities. In
the forests and the mountains, he showed him how to leap and climb. He also
told him everything he knew from ancient lore, such as the Book of Godson. He
spoke of massive creatures called cliff behemoths that lived solely upon these
words.
Cliff behemoths! Could such creatures rally exist?! Yet,
here stood an elf before him. If an elf existed, why not a
cliff behemoth? Why not an algor for that matter? Tailless lizards could be no more difficult
to believe than the dead walking and raising arms against him. What was the
explanation that caused this? Magic? Real magic, not fake tricks? The Sphere of Ingar was
supposed to contain all the magical energy. But according to the legends, the
sphere was entombed long ago. If there was indeed such a talisman, then there
must also be sorcerers and wizards.
Such disquieting
thoughts continued to cloud his mind. He walked about, circling the pines
nearby. He mumbled to himself over and over. This was too much for any one man
to accept, even a delver. However, he could not deny the simple facts before
him. A corpse attacked him. Something which should have been unable to even
move had shown the ability to carry and throw a crude spear, to chase and even
choke him. There also stood before him what looked like, for all intents and
purposes, an elf. Lief Woodson appeared honest and forthright, and had pointed
ears.
Ryson eventually
found himself standing once more by the side of the elf. He also found himself
retracing the same thoughts over and over again. Finally, he spoke with forced
determination.
"I don't
know what's going on. That's the unfortunate answer. I have no idea whatsoever.
Either I'm mad or you're right. Since I don't want to believe I've lost my
mind, I have to hope to find another answer. You may be right, but it's a
little much for me to just accept. Maybe it's best for me to be just what I am,
a delver, and look for the answers."
Lief nodded in pensive approval. "I hope that also
means that you may be willing to assist me. I have said before I lack
knowledge. A delver's assistance would help me greatly. It will also serve your
own purposes for it will bring you greater information. You will see things you
never expected to see in your life."
"That's
already happened. I look at you now. I never expected to see an elf, let alone
talk to one."
Lief allowed himself to laugh once more. He spoke with a smile through
his momentary chuckle. "I suppose that means you really believe I am an
elf. I'm glad I will not have to argue that point any further. Actually, I
doubt you really know what to make of me at all. You should have seen your face
when I showed you my ears."
"It's just
that I never expected this," Ryson admitted while revealing a hint of
embarrassment.
"It will be
new to us all," Lief stated. "The last contact between elf and human
occurred so long ago that I can't even remember. It looks as if now we have no
choice. Elves will have to come out into the open once more. But
enough of that. Will you assist me?"
Ryson considered
the request carefully. “Assist you? How?”
“As I have said,
I need information. I need to know what you’ve seen and heard, and why you are
here.” The elf stated this pointedly.
"I'll do
what I can."
"And I will
help you. I will prepare you for what I expect to find. By the way, if we are
to assist one another, what shall I call you?"
The delver was
taken slightly aback. He never could have expected he would be introducing
himself to a being he thought existed only in fantasy. "I'm sorry. I'm
Ryson Acumen. I should have told you much sooner.
"It's more
than understandable. Think nothing more of it. Now, we have important business
to attend to." Lief's congeniality faded into dark seriousness. Bleakness
stretched across his face, his words dropped from his mouth like dead anchors.
"I must ask you now what you were doing in this part of the forest. It is
not a passage and there are no towns about. Are the humans thinking again of
expanding their territory? Were you investigating the lands for them?"
"No, not really." Ryson struggled to maintain an
even flow of thought. So much had occurred in recent moments,
he found it difficult to latch upon those events which brought him to Dark
Spruce in the first place. Laboriously, he summed up the reasons for his
exploration. "It was the quake, a tremor that rolled through Connel a few
days ago." In truth, he wasn't sure how long ago the tremor disturbed the
grounds surrounding Connel. He continued as if trying to pull thoughts one by
one from his head. "I wanted to see what effect it had on the land. The
town council also wanted an exploration. At first, I was sent to inspect damage
to some neighboring towns. I've completed that. I left Pinesway this morning to
follow the tremor, and that led me into the forest. I'm still trying to see how
things have changed. I'm also seeking the origin of the quake."
Lief considered the explanation with apparent confusion.
"I do not mean to question you, but when I first spotted you, you were
traveling south. You were not following the path of the tremor. That leads to
the west"
"Yes. I have
to admit I lost my focus," Ryson responded with greater certainty. The
reason for his change in direction was the undead attacker, and that memory
could not be washed from his mind. "I noticed a smell. It was so strange
and new, it pulled at me. Sometimes that's the price of being a delver. We
never know how our instincts will guide us. It guided me to this." He
nodded to the corpse. The sight now revolted him. "But it is my intention
to return to the path of the tremor. By the way, were you aware of the
quake?"
The question brought
further anguish to Lief's demeanor, graveness painted his face even darker. He
looked to the west, as if he could see through the thicket of trees which
surrounded them. "I'm all too aware of the disturbance which passed. It is
that same tremor which preceded incidents of great magnitude. It is why I have
the fears which I do."
"You mean
about the Sphere of Ingar?"
"Indeed.
While the quake did little damage to our camp, I feel it signified something
more. Within hours of the tremor, my people experienced many amazing things.
Older elves found themselves rejuvenated with youthful vitality. Younger elves
showed an uncanny ability to foretell events and see into the minds of others.
As the day passed, it soon became apparent that the members of my camp were
becoming filled with a power long since vanished. Many took it as a blessing, a
sign that the elves would return to their place in the land's order. I did not
look at it in such a favorable light.
"My fears
truly became heightened when a very gifted youngster turned invisible at his
own will. At that point, I spoke up. I declared that something was very wrong,
that the only answer was that the magic long trapped in the sphere was now
being released. With no surprise, my announcement created great fear. There
were those that refused to believe me. They wished to believe it a blessing and
not a curse. Yet, within a day, the more sensitive of my people found
themselves feeling ill at ease.
"Again, I
spoke up and again I was refuted. This time, however, there were others which
spoke with me. Even my harshest critics could not ignore the fact that magic
was again free in the air. They persisted, however, that the magic was not from
the sphere. They concluded that the magic was freed from the land itself, freed
by the quake."
"But you
don't think so, do you?" Ryson asked inquisitively. Finally, he found a
moment of freedom from the anguish in his mind. The chance to ask questions, to
listen and learn of such things as elves and their conversations, to hear of
things as foreign as Elf camps; such things invoked his delver curiosity.
Lief shook his
head sternly. "I did not then, and I certainly do not now. The dead has
been raised. That is not a blessing. This is serious magic, magic that could
only have been held by the sphere. Magic caught within the land would not hold
the ability or the intention to create undead warriors. If it was not from the
sphere, it would be pure and hold no such order. No, I'm afraid the magic must
have been corrupted by a powerful sorcerer long ago. All of that energy was
captured in the sphere."
"It sounds
as if you're convinced," Ryson noted. "I don't know enough to argue
the point. I know what I've seen and it does defy all sanity. You're obviously
out in the forest for a reason, I assume to help support your theory. That
being the case, what is it you want to do?"
"We must
travel to
Ryson
contemplated the proposal. His face revealed slight hesitancy.
"What
troubles you, delver?" Lief asked.
Ryson grimaced.
"I must admit that I'm not just following the quake for myself. I promised
Reader Matthew I would include him on what I found. If I agree to go with you
to Sanctum, it means I'm giving up. I'd rather not do that."
"Who is this
Reader Matthew?" Lief requested, perturbed by the thought that something
might detract from him obtaining the help of the delver.
"I guess you
would call him the spiritual leader for the
Surprise filled
the elf. He reared his head back as he could not refrain from blurting out a
hasty question. "A reader of Godson is concerned about the quake? Did he tell you why?"
"He did. He
spoke of the prophesies of Godson. Apparently, they
were translated with great accuracy for them by some interpreter. But this
tremor wasn't mentioned by the translator. Matthew found this difficult to
accept. He wants to know more of the quake, where it came from and what it's
done to the land."
"So their
prophecies include nothing about the quake, either?" The fact appeared to
strike Lief more personally than it should have, almost as if the translated
prophecies meant as much to him as they did to Matthew and his followers.
The elf's
reaction was not lost upon the delver, and Ryson watched with greater interest
as he made his simple response. "Apparently not."
Lief shook his
head in tired frustration. "Yet, another factor which
now weighs upon me. How do I deal with this? Elflore says nothing about
this and now I find the Book of Godson is also lacking. Fire
upon the prophecies for not warning us of this. Must we face this
without the slightest reference of what might be? How are we to act, what
should we do?"
Ryson remained
quiet for long moments. He longed to ask about elflore and how it impacted
Lief's theories. But the elf remained in deep deliberation, and Ryson let his
companion weigh this new information without interruption. He would find
another time to ask about such things.
The elf grimaced
with uncertainty before turning his attention back to the delver. When he
spoke, he said nothing of elflore or the Book of Godson.
"So, the
reader wishes you to send word as to what you find. I think we can continue to
accommodate that. I do not believe it will be a conflict at all. He wishes you
to follow the path of the quake. If I am not mistaken, the path will lead us
directly to
"I'm not
sure about that. While I've been told the legends, I've never received
teachings direct from the book. I'm not sure which story comes from where. I
would have to agree, though, that Matthew would be interested in knowing of the
sphere, if indeed such a sphere exists."
"Free
yourself from your doubts, delver. I understand them, but they will only make
things more difficult for you. There is a sphere and I am now quite sure that
it is responsible for the happenings of the past few days. You must expect to
see things you would previously never have believed possible. Very simply, the
magic is free. How or why it's free is of great concern to me. It is what we
must determine. Remember the legends. Keep them in your mind, hold to them, and
believe them. They will help you, and perhaps keep you from madness. They may
also save your life."
The elf paused and nodded to the decaying
remains upon the ground before them. "You've already faced the undead
today. There is no telling what else awaits us."
Ryson looked upon
the now lifeless corpse for the last time, a stark reminder of the madness he
might face. He noticed the handle of his dagger protruding out of its chest. He
fought off his own repugnance and bent over to retrieve it. He wiped the blade
on the ground several times. He examined it carefully before returning it to
his belt, making sure not the slightest stain remained.
"Speaking of
such," Ryson spoke with an edge, "what happens if we face another one
of these? What do I have to do to stop it?"
"You must
remember it is an undead warrior. It is no longer a living thing. It is a
lifeless hulk, animated by dark magic. You can't expect to kill it by thrusting
a blade into its heart. It won't be effective, for the heart is no longer
important. It also won't feel pain. And it won't feel regret or remorse at
attacking. There are only two ways to stop such a creature. You must remove the
magic which gives it life, or inflict enough damage so that it is no longer a
threat. It takes powerful spells to forcibly remove the energy, so unless you
are willing to become a sorcerer, that option is not open to you. That leaves
the second. That is what I did. The undead are strong, but their bodies are not
very resilient. Decay will do that. If you damage the body to a point where it
can no longer hurt you, the magic will leave of its own accord. When I struck
the legs of the creature, it was no longer capable of movement. The energy
could no longer force the corpse to attack, so it left."
"I see. But
I'm not equipped for such a battle. This knife is all I carry."
"Then, you
might consider altering that decision. Your only other option is to flee. Don't
worry about that now. We go to
"Then I'll
rely upon you as well as my own senses," Ryson acknowledged.
"Hopefully, I can warn us of another such monster."
"Warnings
are always advantageous. Now let us move on. I would, though, make one request.
Let us move through the trees. Passing from branch to branch, crossing the
forest above the ground, it is how I travel."
"That will
slow me down," Ryson admitted.
"I know, but
it will allow me to keep pace with you. It is the quickest way for me. It is a
fairly short trip to Sanctum. We might reach its base before nightfall, but if
you are as gifted as the stories reveal about delvers, there is no way I can
match your speed upon the ground. I have seen you move as you battled the
undead; of this I'm already sure."
"If you
think it’s best."
"It is
indeed. The forest will take us to the edge of Sanctum. At that point we can
examine the area and adjust our travel. For now, simply follow your instincts.
Return your attention to the quake and its path. It will lead us westward and
that is where I wish to go. Follow it as you see fit. I believe it will lead us
to the mountain. If you sense anything else which calls for your attention,
please inform me."
"Certainly,"
Ryson agreed without hesitation. Millions of questions assaulted him, questions
without answers. He would not find those answers by remaining here; they waited
elsewhere, perhaps within
The elf and the
delver moved westward. They scaled the trees with ease. They leapt from branch
to branch, swung from tree to tree, and trotted deep within the pine needles
and leaves. Even among the thickest grove of cedars, their pace far exceeded
the normal walking speed of a human.
As they carried
themselves closer to the sky, their path earned them greater sunlight. The
trees themselves were full of life. Early season cherries were already ripening
and berries on taller bushes waited within arm’s reach. The two travelers
paused on several occasions to re-energize with the beckoning gifts.
As they moved
about the sturdy branches, small animals appeared to enjoy their company. Birds
and squirrels danced along with them. Every now and then, the delver whistled
out a bird call or a chirp to a nearby chipmunk. He would smile broadly with
every musical response. The sunlight, the animals, the green of Dark Spruce;
all served to lift the gloom from the delver. He found the excursion
invigorating, and he found his natural abilities more than capable of handling
the task. He ducked in and out of the trees with amazing grace and balance. He
slipped through dense clusters of branches by navigating through twisting
passages. While he could have moved much faster upon the ground, he was
satisfied with their pace. He was also pleased to hone his climbing skills.
Indeed, he made a mental note to travel this way more often. If nothing else,
it kept many of his abilities sharp.
The elf moved
with similar ease, but he failed to show the same eager enthusiasm. This was no
new or unique experience. Traveling within the trees was as normal to him as
breathing. It was how all woodland elves traveled. There was never a need to
cut a path through dense underbrush as long as the trees formed a forest. Thick
branches cast the framework for both their paths and their bridges. There was
not a stream in Dark Spruce that could not be crossed by leaping from one tree
to another. As easily as squirrels crossed great distances while never placing
a single step upon the ground, the elves moved in similar fashion, and Lief was pleased with the speed in which they crossed Dark
Spruce.
With each step,
from one tree to the next, the delver became more engrossed with following the
path of the quake. Traveling upon the branches became routine. His attention ultimately
focused squarely upon the quest, and his instincts took greater control of his
movements.
The elf followed
behind the delver. He allowed Ryson to choose the direction and path. Only
occasionally would he lift his head to get his own bearings. To both his
distress and satisfaction, he noted their westward movement, movement that
carried them in the general direction of Sanctum.
The delver made
his decisions based on the signs of the ground below. Once again, his senses
focused upon the trail of the tremor. He peered downward often to assess the
mark of the quake. Disheveled ground and uplifted roots gave clear indications
of the path. The signs of damage became clearer and more extensive with every step.
In places, the soil appeared freshly turned. Actual breaks in the ground,
cracks and crevices, appeared more regularly. He also noted greater damage to
the trees. He found more than one completely uprooted. Tree branches were
covered with dust and debris, fallout from the upheaval of the quake.
As they moved
onward, they took fewer and fewer breaks. Ryson rushed forward, the trail
beckoning him with greater influence. Even as the path became clearer,
something in the distance called out to his instincts, something akin to a
faint echo. He could not seize the true fabric of this call, but he was certain
something of great importance waited for his discovery. He wondered if it would
hold the answer to his questions or only create more
mysteries, but whatever the case, he wished to find it. Such was the strength
of his pursuit that he nearly forgot about his companion.
The elf kept
pace, although it proved to be a struggle. As accustomed as Lief was to this
form of travel, he was not prepared for the great speed of a delver. He called
upon his own natural skills to keep up. He considered calling out to Ryson to
slow his travel, but changed his mind as he saw the outline of
It was just as he
thought, even as he feared. Following the path of the tremor continued to lead
them to his personal objective, the site of entombment for the Sphere of Ingar.
Even as he mulled the seriousness of this sign in his mind, he still could not
guess what the final outcome might be. Again, he cursed the lore and the
prophecies. Not a word about this existed, not a prophecy, not even a warning. Nothing.
The elf gritted
his teeth as he smelled the late afternoon air. It was heavy with magic, power
that should not exist. Such energy was captured long ago, captured by the
sphere, which was in turn buried deep within Sanctum. Yet, the magic was
strongly prevalent here. More proof that the sphere's centuries long entombment
had ended. Powerful thoughts as well as fears filled the elf with despair and
confusion. Lief became so consumed, he almost passed by the delver.
Ryson had come to
a complete halt within a broad leafed maple. He stood rigid upon a heavy bough.
He looked off to the north. His nose sniffed the air as he remained motionless.
Only the elf's continued movement caused him to react. As Lief stepped forward
to Ryson's side, the delver put out an arm and grabbed the elf's shoulder. He
made it very clear that he wanted silence.
The elf complied
completely. He crouched slightly but then remained perfectly still. He peered
in the same northern direction. His sharp eyes caught glimpses of movement
within a shout's distance away, but branches, leaves and pine needles blocked
clear sight of the ground based commotion.
Ryson moved his
head near the elf's ear.
"What do you
see?" he whispered.
Lief stared for a moment more. He answered in a whispered
but sturdy voice. "My vision is blocked, but I make out the movement of at
least three. There may be more out of sight. I have caught the glint of steel
in the sunlight, normally a sign of weapons or armor, but I can not say what
they carry. I also can not determine who they are. It is hard to say for sure,
but they appear short in size. They might be nothing more than human children,
though I can not explain the existence of steel if they were. Perhaps, they are
soldiers that are crouching."
Ryson shook his
head. "I don't think so. What do you hear?"
The elf brushed
the hair away from the side of his head, again revealing one pointed ear. He
listened for a moment and grimaced before explaining. "It is strange, a
grumbling of strangely pitched voices. It reverberates with a strange echo, as
if they were talking in a cave. I can not make out any words."
Ryson did not
respond. He sniffed the air again, and then put a hand to his chin. He crouched
deep in thought as he considered their findings.
The elf turned
his gaze upon the delver. "You are confused. What's wrong?"
"The
smell," Ryson acknowledged. "It's strange to me."
"It was the
smell that made you uncover the undead, was it not?"
"Yes, but
this is different. This isn't decay. This is something totally new."
The elf took a
moment to cast a glance at the outline of Sanctum. "If I am right about
the sphere," he whispered, "and now I believe I am certain, there is
magic in the air. That may be what affects your smell."
"The scent
is coming from that group," Ryson insisted. "They're the
source."
"More
evil," Lief mumbled as he turned his attention back to the unidentified
strangers. "I see another. I'm sure there are now at least four. They wear
thick breast plates. I believe they are warriors of some type."
"Perhaps,
but they're not human," Ryson said with great certainty.
"They may be
dwarves," Lief interjected. "That would explain their apparent size.
It would explain the chest plates, although they only wear armor in times of
battle. I wish I could see their faces."
Ryson blinked at
the thought. "Dwarves?"
The elf quickly
reminded Ryson of the situation he faced. "Remember your legends, delver.
You see before you an elf, and you have faced the undead. Take my word for what
it is. Dwarves still live in this world."
"I guess
it's possible."
"But still
confusing," Lief added. "Dwarves do not make a practice of mulling
about in the woods, even close to a mountain. They live in the comfort and
security of tunnel caves. Daylight is not kind to their eyes. I can not
understand why they might be here."
The elf paused a
second before offering his own theory. "Perhaps they are also aware of the
freed magic. They might be here to inspect the tomb. It would explain
much."
Ryson made it
clear he wanted more than just a plausible theory before they disregarded this
encounter. "How can we be sure?"
Lief responded with quick certainty. "We need to get a
better look at them. Dwarves are unmistakable in feature. All are stout and
powerful. They are shorter than the average human. Their faces are much like
yours or mine except stern, as if chiseled. The men wear long beards, and most
let their hair grow full and long. They wield axe, mace, and broadsword."
"Excellent,"
Ryson exclaimed. "Let me go and have a look at them. I'll come back and
tell you if your description fits."
Lief's voice grew
stern and demanding. "You do not intend to go alone? I shall accompany
you!"
The delver shook
his head. "No. I'll move easier if I only have to worry about
myself."
"But that is
not all you have to worry about," Lief responded adamantly. "You face
many things you know little of. I can not let you blunder mindlessly into such
a thing."
"I have no
intention of blundering into anything. I fully intend on being as careful as possible."
"You will
take greater care if I am with you."
"I don't
think so," Ryson whispered. "This is what I do. You've seen me move,
do you really question my abilities? I
can investigate without being seen or heard, but to do it well, I have to move
alone."
Lief considered
what he had already learned watching the delver upon this day. He could not
deny the skills which were inherently the delver's. He accepted the situation,
although reluctantly. "Very well, but take heed. Dwarves are known to be
dangerous. They are strong and deadly with their weapons. If you arouse them,
they might attack. If you are spotted, I suggest you flee. It is your best
chance. I can tell you truly, no dwarf could match you in speed and
agility."
"I'll remember
that. I'll be back in a moment. This shouldn't take very long."
Ryson looked
about quickly before leaping to a higher branch. He continued climbing, barely
making a sound or even disturbing a single leaf. As soon he was several lengths
above his previous position, he moved toward the unidentified persons. High in
the trees, the delver used the cover of the branches and leaves to his every
advantage. He became less a shadow and more a part of the trees themselves. He
made his way to a better vantage point before dropping down several branches.
He quickly obtained a position which allowed a clear view of the group below.
He pulled the spyscope from his pouch and gained close view of his quarry. He
found the spectacle most surprising. The characteristics he spotted did not
come close to matching the description given by the elf. Except for the short
stature, these creatures looked nothing like dwarves.
Closer to the
group, he counted seven in all. They were odd looking, actually disgusting creatures.
They had round, balloon-like heads, with a grayish tint, maybe even a hint of
purple. Thick heavy skin, apparently layers and layers, swelled around the
cheeks and eyes. It made their faces look puffy and swollen. Thin lips outlined
very wide mouths. Within these mouths, Ryson saw long disorganized rows of
small, square teeth. Thin wisps of wiry gray and black hair dotted their round
heads. Their noses were different and unique from creature to creature. Some
had short, round noses. Others had long pointed ones. One had no true nose at
all, only two nostril openings at the center of its face.
As for their
weapons, they carried small crossbows draped over their backs, and they wore
short swords at their sides. They wore thick plates covering their chests. It
was their only protection.
Ryson listened as
the creatures continued to mull about the ground. They spoke in muffled
grumblings. The delver could not decipher a single word.
Before leaving
his position, he peered about looking for any stragglers or guards. With
careful eyes, the delver quickly spotted a single creature hiding up in the
branches over the others. This guard cradled a crossbow in its arms.
Secure that he
was aware of all the potential hazards, Ryson silently returned to Lief's side.
He whispered his report hoping to gain comprehension from the elf's viewpoint.
"Goblins!"
the elf whispered with a heavy sign. "As if I needed
another sign to accept the dark truth of what we now face."
"Goblins?" Ryson exclaimed in a weary voice, yet
another surprise, another unexpected twist to this mind-boggling experience.
"Yes, goblins. It's further proof that the sphere is
free from imprisonment. Goblins can not survive without magic, not in this
plane of existence. They are creatures of the dark. Some say they come up from
the underground with the help of magic, but the dwarves never agreed with that
theory. They contend they fall from trees, like overripe fruit. I don't know
where they come from, but I know the last was seen long ago. They did not last
long after the war over the sphere. I have never seen one. My father fought one
of the last groups in a suicide battle, but that was long, long ago.
Apparently, they are back."
"So what do
we do?"
The elf quickly
considered the available options. "How many did you see?"
"There are
seven on the ground. There is one in the tree over their heads. I assume he is
there to protect the others. He has his crossbow drawn and loaded."
"Puny
numbers," Lief said indignantly. "The true threat of the goblin lies
in their numbers. I have heard stories of them attacking in hundreds of
thousands. They darken the land and fill the sky with their arrows. I also know
that they are not the bravest of creatures. Such a small group, they must be
very worried. A single guard in a tree will give them little protection."
Ryson recalled
other factors and revealed them to Lief. "They mumbled a lot, but I
couldn't understand what they were saying. They seemed to be looking around,
almost as if they were waiting for something."
"They are
probably waiting for their numbers to swell, hiding in the trees until they
feel more comfortable with the size of their group. We won't give them a
chance."
Ryson noted the
belligerent tone in the elf's voice. "What do you intend to do?" he
asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I intend to
break up their party before they grow into a threatening herd," Lief
answered with a cold chill tainting his words. He could not hide his animosity,
and did not wish to. "I seek answers. These cretins may hold such answers.
It is a perfect opportunity. Doubtless, they are unaware of our presence. We
can take them with little difficulty. I doubt they will do little more than
run."
As if there was
to be no discussion, Lief gave his orders. "I want you to approach the
guard. Knock him to the ground. When you strike, I will move from lower within
the trees. I intend to take at least one out with an arrow. Then, I will swoop
down upon them. They will flee, but I will capture one."
"You're
going to kill one of them?" Great reluctance became very evident in the
face of the delver. "I can't kill anything."
Lief's eyes
narrowed, his loathing more apparent. "I will take care of that, not
you."
"But I won't
be a part of it, either."
The elf bit back
a flash of anger. He looked almost scornfully at the delver. His own hate and
dispassion for the race of goblins exploded like a flare. "Very well, I
will go alone."
"I'll warn
them," Ryson stated firmly, revealing he had no intention of backing down.
Lief's anger
doubled, tripled. He was about to condemn the delver with every curse known to
the elves, but his anger soon gave way to understanding. He saw compassion in the
eyes of the delver. It was not fear which spurred Ryson to refuse the plan, it was a respect for life.
"I
see," the elf grumbled. "Is there any way to convince you that what
you protect is unworthy of such lofty standards?"
"No,"
Ryson responded simply.
"Very well." Lief gave one final glance at the
outline of Sanctum in the distance. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have
staunchly argued the lowly worthlessness of the goblin. Their renewed existence
in the land filled him with malevolence and disgust, but it also underscored
the nature of his worst fears. Great magic is needed to allow goblins to pass
upon the land, this was undeniable, magic which could
only be found in the Sphere of Ingar. The thought hammered at him, and the growing
importance of the sphere left little time to debate the issue.
"You give me
no choice. I will not press you to change your mind at this time. I will only
tell you that you may eventually be forced into a position where such high
standards become impossible. I do not think you understand the severity of the
situation you face. One day a horde of these creatures may attack your home.
They will not think twice about killing every inhabitant."
"That may
be," Ryson allowed, "but that is not yet the case. I won't be part of
unnecessary killing."
"Like I said
before, I won't attempt to change your mind at this time. Will you accept my
plan if I promise I will not hit any of the loathsome creatures with my
arrow? Instead, I will send several that
will miss the mark. That will serve to create confusion and force the goblins
to flee. I will then capture one."
"I'll take
your word for that," Ryson acknowledged. "And I accept it."
"Very good. Let us move now. Each moment we delay, the
goblins entertain the chance for increasing their numbers. I will go this
way." The elf pointed to a low path within the branches to his left.
"I will stop roughly forty paces from their position. When I see the guard
tumble from the tree, I will shoot four or five arrows over their heads. After
you take out the guard, remain within the branches. If you drop too close to
the goblins, they might strike out at you in the confusion. They will not
regard your life with the same high standard you afford them."
"I
understand."
"Go
now!" the elf commanded before moving off in his designated direction.
The delver paused
for but a moment, then followed a different path back
toward the goblins. He gritted his teeth to fight back his growing anxieties
over the danger he now faced. While he remained in control of his movements,
his thoughts swelled over the image of facing hundreds of goblins, no less
hundreds of thousands.
What was
happening to the world he lived upon? He fought the undead, traveled with an
elf, and now planned to attack goblins. If not for the seriousness with which
his parents told him of the legends, he would have believed himself insane. Yet
now, the legends were revealing themselves to him, revealing themselves
in a way which he could not simply dismiss as illusion or dream.
In such instances
of distraction, Ryson focused upon the task at hand. It was time to force the
maddening puzzles from his consciousness and allow the deepest of his instincts
to control his movements. He stalked the goblins from above. He glided from
branch to branch with such diligence that the guard had no warning of his
approach.
The delver gained
a position high above the guard, then moved downward.
Spiraling around the trunk, Ryson used branches and leaves to cover his
advance. He gained a position within arm’s reach before the goblin even knew of
his existence.
The goblin
shifted its head at the sign of a disturbance. It growled in surprise and fear
as a shadowy figure moved swiftly toward it.
Before the puffy
face turned completely about, the delver pulled the crossbow from out of its
hands. He thew it aside. It crashed through the
branches and fell harmlessly to the ground. Ryson quickly grabbed the heavy
chest plate of the goblin. He twisted and pulled until the goblin became
displaced from the thick bough it clung to.
As Ryson held the
goblin aloft in mid-air, the creature looked up and snarled. Foamed spit
cascaded from its angry mouth.
The creature
weighed barely more than a small child, and Ryson had no difficulty in
maintaining his grip. He saw the distance to the ground and decided not to
simply drop the goblin. Instead, he hoped to lower it before releasing his
hold, thus reducing the risk of injury to the creature.
The goblin,
however, did not care about the possibility of falling. It remained far more
concerned about being in the grip of a trespasser. It continued to snarl and
spit as it waved its hands in the air. Suddenly, it found its balance and quickly
brought its right arm to its side. The goblin grasped the hilt of a short sword
and pulled the blade from its sheath.
The disturbance
in the tree alerted the other goblins below. More snarls and growls erupted.
The goblins raced about and around the tree. They pulled their crossbows from
their backs and began pulling bolts from pouches attached to their waistbands.
Before any of the
ground level goblins could load their crossbows, long powerful arrows sizzled
through the air just above their heads. Four shafts whistled by with great
force and plunged into the surrounding tree trunks.
The goblins fell
into disarray. Their concern over their comrade above vanished instantly. Panic
divided them. Without great numbers, they knew of their extreme vulnerability.
They scattered without a second thought.
Ryson ignored the
commotion below him. He concentrated on keeping his grip on the goblin as he
lowered himself down the tree. He shook the goblin with all the force he could
muster to keep the creature from striking at him.
The goblin fought
against its capture. It made two attempts to strike at Ryson's arm, but each
time it failed. Just as it lifted its hand to swing, it was jostled with great
force, and the blade struck empty air. It seemed ambivalent to the distance to
the ground as it continued to strive for a clean strike. Such a chance opened
when the goblin gained hold of another branch with its free hand. Suddenly
steadied, the goblin resisted the shaking of the delver. Gleeful fury filled
its eyes as it prepared to amputate Ryson's arm.
Only the skill
and quickness of being a delver allowed Ryson to avoid the blow. He released
hold of the goblin and pulled his arm back. The blade of the short sword passed
harmlessly through the air.
The goblin, no
longer supported by the delver, found itself unprepared to maintain its grip on
the branch. It could not hold its own weight and it plummeted to the ground. It
landed with a perplexing bounce, almost as if its body were made of rubber. The
creature appeared no worse for wear and scrambled to its feet. In but a mere
instant, it was quickly scurrying off into thicker cover.
At that same
moment, Lief jumped into the clearing once occupied by
the goblins. He swirled his head about. His eyes darted over the different
paths of the departing creatures.
With barely a
delay, he seized upon one trail. He leapt after the scurrying goblin with
stone-like determination. Over rocky and rooted soil, he raced through the
forest keeping his eyes locked upon the fleeing creature. He slapped branches
away from his path as he continued to pursue.
The goblin made
chase difficult. It used its size to its advantage, choosing narrow paths under
low lying branches. It jumped through thick brush whenever possible. It also
turned frequently as it used its greater mobility to out distance the elf.
Lief continued to follow relentlessly even as the distance between
the two increased. He ignored the stinging pain to his face as pine
needles brushed against his cheeks. Eventually, however, he realized the
futility of his chase. He pulled to a halt and quickly drew an arrow from his
quiver. He placed it upon the string of his bow, but before he could draw, the
delver called to him.
"Don't shoot it!" Ryson
commanded. The delver darted past the elf almost as a blur. Such was the speed
he moved past Lief, the elf felt a small breeze.
Ryson took up the
chase where Lief left off, but the delver moved at far greater speed. He cut
through each barrier of the forest as if it were nothing more than tissue
paper. He turned with pinpoint accuracy and quickly cut the distance between
himself and the goblin. In mere moments, he reached out and grabbed the back of
the goblin's neck.
This time, the delver would take no chances in
losing control of the creature. His hand darted to the goblin's belt and beat
the creature to the handle of the short sword. He drew it away from the
creature but held it threateningly.
The goblin eyed first
the point of its own sword and then the delver. It hissed once, then became
still, as if accepting its fate.
Ryson carried the
goblin to a clearing in the forest. He dropped it to the ground but made it
clear the goblin was not to move. He kept his eyes on the creature as he called
for the elf.
Lief arrived quickly. As he stepped nearer to the goblin, he
examined it sternly. He folded his arms across his chest and looked down on the
creature with great contempt.
"Why have
you returned to these lands?!" The elf spoke with a cold demanding voice.
At first the
goblin did not answer.
"Do not try
my patience," Lief advised sternly. "You were captured by a delver, a
full-bred delver. He can capture another one with the same ease he caught you.
If you do not speak, I will dispose of you and we will bring another captive to
your lifeless body. I am sure the next will be more willing to talk."
The goblin snarled
at the elf before casting a wary eye upon Ryson. The creature looked him over
carefully.
"You are
delver?" the creature finally spoke. Its lips snarled as the voice carried
with a low-toned whisper.
"Yes,"
Ryson managed. He felt ill at ease actually speaking to such a diminutive
monster.
"What is
your name?"
Ryson did not
answer.
"Your
name?!" the creature demanded.
"Tell
him," the elf advised while keeping a cold stare upon the goblin.
"My name is
Ryson Acumen."
The goblin
paused. It stood stoic as if going through long past memories in its head. With
a nod of futility, the goblin turned its attention back to the elf.
"If I tell
you what you ask, will you release me?"
"I make no
promises," Lief responded coldly.
"Then
neither do I. I shall tell you nothing unless you give
me your word for freedom. Otherwise, threaten me all you wish."
"I will
release you only if you speak the truth," the elf conceded. "If I
sense a shred of lies in your answers, I will deal with you harshly. Answer me
without lies and I will release you to the forest, but I will not return your
weapons. That is my word."
"No weapon?! I will be defenseless!" the goblin
protested vehemently.
"Find your
friends. They shall have to assist you."
"I may not
find them in time."
"Enough!"
Lief roared. "Your time is up. Take my word now
or we shall begin our hunt for another. What is your answer?!"
"I agree to
accept your word," the goblin stated. "What are your questions?"
The elf sneered
at the goblin. "Why are you here?"
"The magic
allows us to be here," the goblin replied shortly.
"The magic of the sphere?"
"If you
speak of the orb created by Ingar, I can not say."
The elf's eyes
narrowed in anger and distrust. "Do not forget my word. I will only
release you if you speak the truth."
"I speak the
truth," the creature stated dispassionately. "I know not where the
magic comes from. All I know is its presence. It is here and I am here."
"What has
happened to the sphere?" the elf demanded.
"I do not
know."
"Have your
kind seized it?!"
"I do not
know."
The elf boiled
over with anger. He raised an arm to strike out at the goblin.
The goblin
hissed, but veered away. It crouched down spitting and snarling in a defensive
position.
Lief moved forward but Ryson cut between him and the goblin.
"That won't
help," the delver protested.
"I grow
tired of listening to these ridiculous replies!" Lief
growled. "It states the magic lets it be here, yet it refuses to
tell me where the magic comes from. This creature must be taught that I will
not tolerate such things!"
Ryson continued
to block the elf's path to the goblin. "But what if it's telling the
truth?"
The elf did not
respond. He stared angrily at the goblin, but made no further attempt to move
forward.
"Maybe it
really doesn't know," Ryson suggested. He then turned his attention to the
goblin. He spoke softly but sternly.
"Do you know
where the magic is coming from?"
The goblin eyed
the delver carefully before answering. "No, but I would guess it is from
the orb."
"Why?"
"Not since
the orb was encased in the mountain have we been able to walk these lands. But
now, we can do so again."
"Where do you
come from?"
"Another place."
"How does
the magic help you here?"
"It opens
the door, unlocks the gate and lets us through. For ages we have been unable to
break through, but now the door is open once more."
Ryson considered
the goblin's answer before continuing. "Do you know what might have
happened to allow this?"
"No,"
the goblin stated flatly.
"Do you know
what has happened to the sphere?"
"No."
Ryson turned to
his companion with a questioning glance. "Does any of this help answer
your questions?"
"Not at all. All I can be sure of is that the sphere is
free from containment. This creature might say the goblins have nothing to do
with that, but its presence so close to the mountain casts much doubt. I would
not be surprised if we have heard nothing but lies."
"I have not
lied!" the goblin objected vigorously. "I have not lied in order to
hold you to your bargain. You are an elf, you have
given your word. I have done everything that will force you to hold to that
word. You must release me!"
"I will keep
to my word," Lief stated coldly. "You will finish answering my
questions first. Why are you here, at
"It is where
the door leads us," the goblin answered through a sneer.
"How many
have entered the land so far?"
"More than I
know."
"Where are
they now? We only counted seven besides
you."
"They are
scouting the lands in small parties. We stayed behind to await others that will
cross over."
"What are your plans in this land?"
The goblin spoke
forcibly and defiantly. "What they have always been. We are here to
conquer. We will take our rightful place as leader of this land. Our numbers
will swell until we are as the ocean. We will sweep across every territory, we
will ..."
"Enough!"
Lief ordered. He mulled over the goblin's words for
but a moment. He proposed one final question. "Do you know how to close
this door which lets the goblins enter this land?"
"If I did, I
would not tell you even if it meant my life," the goblin stated
scornfully. "Even if it allowed you to back away from your bargain, I
would not tell you. The truth remains that I do not know how to open or close
the door. It is the magic which does so. Thus, I have answered truthfully. I
hold you to your bargain, elf!"
"Very well. Leave my sight! But heed this warning. The
elves are now aware of your presence. If the age old war must resume, we shall
be ready. Your numbers have never turned a single battle in history. Also be
warned, my bargain stands for this moment alone. If we meet again, you will not
survive."
The goblin
responded with angry spit at the feet of the elf. It turned and raced into the
forest.
The delver and
elf stood beside each other and watched the creature disappear into the
thickening woods. Lief turned his head and motioned to the short sword which
remained in the hand of the delver.
"It seems
you now have a trophy of your capture."
Ryson held the
sword aloft as he inspected it carefully. It was a crude weapon, hardly a fine
piece of handcraft. The blade was sharp and sturdy, but it lacked any true
dignity or style. It held no proud etchings, nor did it shine with any degree
of polish. The handle remained plain and functional. No stones or jewels
decorated its base. The sword served its ultimate purpose as a weapon, nothing
more.
"Hardly a
thing to look at," Ryson admitted.
"True
enough," Lief agreed. "A goblin's short sword is practical. It will,
however, assist you in battle greater than your own dagger. I suggest you hang
on to it for now."
The mention of
battle reminded Ryson of the final words of the goblin and the elf. The
bitterness between the two and the mention of war weighed heavily upon him. He
could not help but pose a question. "How many goblins will end up
here?"
"If the magic is truly free, more than we will ever
count."
"That's a
frightening thought."
"There are
more frightening aspects of what we face. The goblins are pawns, pawns to the
magic, pawns to other more powerful and more evil creatures. They are probably
the least of our worries."
"You're
kidding?"
"Unfortunately, no. The Sphere of Ingar is the most
powerful and dangerous talisman ever created. Its freedom means the return of
more than just goblins. Elflore tells of many monsters which disappeared after
the encasing of the sphere. Its freedom may mean the return of all of them.
River rogues, vampires, mountain shags, endless undead warriors; all may be
walking upon our land as we speak."
Ryson did not
respond. He looked vacantly out into the forest and beyond to the shadows of
"All of
these creatures in themselves are dangerous," the elf continued, "but
they pale in comparison to the release of the magic. It is the magic that truly
threatens the elves. I wonder how many of my camp are already falling ill. No,
the goblins are the least of our worries. We must concentrate upon the fate of
the sphere."
That was the
second time Lief mentioned possible suffering of the elves. Ryson wished for further
clarification, but even with the great pull of his curiosity, he knew this was
not the time or place for such discussions. He took a chance to survey the
area. He looked through the trees in order to gain a perspective of the sun. It
was fully behind
"We can
probably reach a clearing on the side of the mountain before dark," the
delver stated, "but I don't think that's advisable. We should camp here
for the night. The trees can offer us greater protection."
"I
agree," Lief said with a nod of acceptance. He hated allowing time to pass
through his fingers, but he could not deny the circumstances of the moment. If
goblin scouting parties moved about, it would not do well to be caught in the
open without cover. "Let me suggest, though, that we do not choose a site
so close to the spot where the goblins made their own camp. They may return in
the dark. We should move south of here and find a secure place high in the
trees."
"That sounds
good to me."
The two moved off
quickly and quietly and found a suitable perch with many paths for escape. They
rested comfortably in the trees as the dark of night began to spread.
In the dark of
night, during the peace of rest in high branches of an elderly oak, the delver
had much to consider. A full day, a day of revelations was laid to rest before
him. Encounters a delver might wish for in a lifetime were his in but one
passing of the sun overhead.
Each moment of
discovery printed itself indelibly upon his mind. There would be no forgetting.
In his last days upon the land, he would recall this chain of events which
ushered in a greater knowledge. His world had changed so drastically.
Everything he knew, or thought he knew, was challenged. Everything he believed
he understood was now confused. The
With so much
passing through his mind, Ryson turned to the elf. He sought insight on what
might be the mitigating force behind all that was happening.
"Tell me
what you know about the sphere," Ryson asked.
"What is it
you wish to know exactly?" Lief replied complacently.
Ryson answered
with all honesty. "I want to know everything."
"That would
take all the night and most of the next day," Lief countered.
"Besides, it seems you know of it already. It is clear to me that you have
an understanding of the legends. Is there something in particular that confuses
you?"
"Right now
everything confuses me. You seem to believe that the sphere is at the heart of
whatever is going on. I can't argue that point, and I don't wish to, but if the
sphere is the reason behind this, I'd like to know more about it. I'd also like
to know why you talk about it with such distress."
"It is very
dangerous," the elf stated simply. "That is why it was encased so
long ago."
"I realize
that, but we've already run into things I have to consider more dangerous than
anything else I've ever faced in my life. You keep worrying about the sphere.
I've heard the legends, but I've never heard of elflore until you mentioned it.
Maybe your story is different than mine."
Lief hesitated before speaking. He folded his hands across
his chest, but did not make an immediate reply.
"You don't
want to tell me?" Ryson asked curiously but without sounding offended.
"No, that is
not what concerns me," Lief replied. "It is just that it is difficult
to imagine how fast things have happened. The tremor, the
magic. Now I sit in a tree with a delver who wishes to know about
elflore and what we might face. I will not deny you that knowledge. Based on
what you have already done, it is your right to know. If I'm to ask you to
continue our journey, it is my obligation to tell you. It is just that less
than a season ago, I would have considered such a thing as impossible."
"You don't
have to tell me that," Ryson responded with a knowing glance. "Think how I feel. At least you knew that humans and
delvers existed. I couldn't have guessed that any of the legends were actually
true."
"Now you
know differently," the elf said sternly.
Ryson eyed the
elf and spoke with a careful tone. "Can I ask you a question before you
tell me about the sphere?"
"You
may."
Ryson tried not
to hesitate, but he also wished to choose his words carefully. "Are all
elves like you? I mean, in the short time I've known you, you've shown an
interesting range of emotions. I don't mean any offense by this. Maybe I
shouldn't even ask at all, but I've noticed how you react to certain things.
I've seen you laugh and smile a few times, but you're a rather grim individual.
I don't want to say you're impatient, because that's not true, but you seem to
get annoyed easily. You really got angry when we were dealing with the goblins.
Even when you and I talk, sometimes you sound as if you're annoyed with
me."
"So you
think I am perhaps too quick to anger?"
Ryson shook his
head. "No, I wouldn't say that. It's just that you seem to have a low
tolerance for some things. I don't think that saying you're angry would explain
it. It's more like I said before. You get annoyed."
"Don't
concern yourself with insulting me," Lief replied
simply. "What you tell me now I have heard before."
"Really?"
"Of course. My own kind have
pointed it out to me. They say I am quite opinionated and that I become quickly
upset. They also say my outlook is much too grim. They say I will always find
that which is bleak, even in the best of times. I guess that is why no one
wished to believe me when I first spoke of the sphere."
"The other
elves say this? Does that mean you're different from the others?"
Lief raised an eyebrow. "Does that surprise you?"
"I don't
know," Ryson admitted. "I'm just curious as to what elves are
like."
"Let me
answer your question by asking you a similar one. What are delvers like? Are
they all like you?"
"No, I couldn't
say that. We're all different."
"The same
applies to the elves. We all have our different personalities. While there are
some things you can perceive about elves through contact with just one, it is
not correct to make sweeping assumptions. While I might get easily annoyed,
there is certainly another elf that would hardly ever show such
dissatisfaction. Some elves may believe I am a very poor representative."
Ryson thought
quietly before responding. "Poor representative or not, you’re my first elf
contact. I won’t ever forget you."
The elf simply
nodded and turned his focus upon the true subject of his own concerns.
"Then let us go back to your first question. Let me tell you about what I
know of the sphere."
The darkness
continued to thicken as Lief began his tale. The air grew cool as the crickets
began to chirp from the ground below. Occasionally, the hoot of an owl would
cut through the insect's music, carried aloft by the night breeze. The sounds
of the darkness seemed to flow with the words of the elf, giving emphasis to
the story.
"Since you
tell me you know much of the legends, I will not preface the story with any
lengthy explanations," the elf noted quickly. "A small introduction,
however, is necessary. The Sphere of Ingar was created by the Sorcerer Ingar in
a final attempt to win ultimate control of all magic. The sphere was actually
constructed from the hides of inhabitants from the land. Ingar sent out minions
to capture elves, dwarves, humans, algors, and delvers. Lore has it that he
skinned them alive, and with powerful magic, altered the hides to become
portions of the sphere. With the casting of a forceful spell, the sphere became
a receptacle for power. Because each race has its own ability to harness, control
or resist the magic, the sphere became a magnet, as well as a vessel for
containing all magical energy.
"Ingar
brought the sphere to all the different corners of Uton. He carried it with him
at all times but never revealed its existence or its purpose. Day after day
passed and the sphere captured more and more energy. The power became
immeasurable. If Ingar had used it at that time, he probably could have
conquered the world without challenge. But Ingar became enthralled with the
very power of the sphere. He wished to capture all of the energy in the land
before he would drink of it himself.
"As the
talisman soaked in the energy, the other magic casters began to notice their
powers dwindling. Each time they cast a spell, they found they could not
replenish their magical energies. Some became completely powerless as they
foolishly wasted all the energy stored within their own bodies, and even that
stored in their enchanted items.
"With the
realization that the magic in the world was fading, the great wizards, both
good and evil, conferred together to solve the mystery. Since they all were
subject to losing their powers, they agreed to work together. Ingar, however,
was noticeably missing from the conference. Becoming suspicious, the wizards and
sorcerers believed Ingar might be responsible. Spies were sent which never
returned.
"The
sorcerers considered casting spells which would reveal Ingar's actions, but
most resisted. The casting of any spell meant losing power, power which could
not be replaced. The magic casters wished to hold on to their stored energy for
as long as possible.
"Finally,
Waelin, the oldest of the wizards, confronted Ingar directly. The sphere was
finally revealed. Waelin attempted to destroy it with magic, but he failed. The
sphere easily absorbed all of Waelin's power. The ancient wizard was never seen
again.
"Unfortunately,
during the struggle between Waelin and Ingar, a great cataclysm occurred. The
power of the sphere was altered slightly. It continued to absorb magical
energies, but it also started to discharge tainted magic. Some say it was a
reaction to one of Waelin's spell. They believe that the wizard tried to force
the magic from the sphere, but the results were disastrous. Others believe the
sphere finally reached its limit and had to release power. Whichever the case,
the end result led first to the storm of Ingar's stronghold and second to the
great war with the magic casters."
"Most of
this agrees with the legends I have been told," Ryson interrupted the elf.
"except the part of the sphere releasing magic.
I've never heard of that before."
"It does not
surprise me," Lief stated. "It was the elves which were affected
first. The energy which was emitted, although tainted by evil within the
sphere, could still be used by sorcerers and wizards. They soon began to
re-energize with the magic which now flowed freely from the sphere. The energy,
however, was not clean. It was contaminated by the sphere. The elves became
keenly aware of this for we were the ones that began to die. The magic
contained a poison, and for some reason, the magical emissions targeted the elf
race first. That is why it is part of elflore."
In this, Ryson
found an answer to a previous musing. "So that's why the elves are in
danger now. There's poison in the magic."
Lief nodded. "Just as it was back
then."
"So what was
it like? How did the elves react?" Ryson asked with greater interest.
"There was
little that could be done," Lief replied sadly. "There was no way to
hide or to avoid the energy. It sought out every elf in the land. It did not
kill immediately. The very old and very young died first. The rest, though,
could sense the poison eating at them as well. And it was the sphere. There was
no doubt. The energies it released were not pure magic. It was magic with a
purpose, magic tainted with harsh direction. Even as magic casters of other
races began casting spells anew, elves which grasped the magic faced death.
Even elves which tried to reject the magic could not save themselves. The
energy embraced them all.
"This is
part of elflore because of the actions of a single elf. It is written that the
most sensitive magic user of the elf race, a great sorceress named Shayed,
probed the emissions. She sensed the plague within the magic. She knew at once
that unless these emissions ceased, all the elves would die.
"She also
noted that the poison held the power to kill the other races. Its power could
easily be shifted to eliminate the algors, the dwarves, the delvers and even
the humans. She said this was caused by the hides of each race which formed the
shell of the sphere. She believed that the sphere would eventually alter the
poison after all the elves were destroyed. Then another race would be
eliminated, then another, and another, until all were gone.
"She used
this knowledge to convince the leaders of the other races to join her, to storm
Ingar's Cove. All races, except for cliff behemoths, aligned together to
capture the sphere before it could kill them all."
"I've never
heard this before," Ryson admitted. "I knew of the alliance of the
races to take the sphere, but I never heard of the poison or that it was a
threat to kill everyone."
Lief was not slow
in his reply. "Probably because the sphere was captured before the elves
were destroyed. Shayed stated the magic would not turn on another race until
the elves were completely eliminated. We were the only ones which faced the
poison.
"In any
event, the storm of Ingar's Cove was successful. Ingar was destroyed and the
sphere taken. The only thing left to decide was what to do with the sphere. It
continued to absorb pure energy and emit only that which would eventually lead
to overall extinction. Shayed claimed the sphere should not be destroyed. She
feared the sudden release of the energy would quickly kill all the elves. At
her request, the great leaders of Uton decided to encase the sphere in a tomb
which would hold it forever and bar the release of any magic. This of course
led to the war with the magic casters."
"That I know
about," Ryson said eagerly. "How does elflore describe the actual
war?"
"The leaders
of the races decided the safest place for the sphere would be deep within
"At these
threats, the leaders became even more determined to see the sphere entombed.
They realized it would mean the end of all of the dark creatures, a bonus. For
this, they would even face the wrath of the magic casters.
"This led to
the most bizarre of all alliances in the history of elflore, or in any of the
legends for that matter. The magic casters, both good and evil, joined forces
with goblins, vampires, mountain shags, and all the undead to take the sphere.
Remember, magic casters came from all different races. There were human
wizards, elven sorcerers, algorian healers, even dwarf magic casters, though
they were few. These were individuals willing to join with dark creatures to
fight their own kind. Only Shayed remained on the side of the allied races. She
was the only magic caster not to join in with the dark creatures."
"I didn't
know that," the delver confessed. "It was my understanding that no
magic was used on our side."
"No magic
was," the elf made clear. "Shayed expended all of her power in the
fight against Ingar. She had no magic left. Her ability to cast spells was no
more. As a magic caster, her craft was gone, but she would still not allow the
destruction of the sphere. She would see that it was carried from Ingar's Cove,
across the prairies, and to its final resting place. When the leaders reached
the town of
"Connel?" Ryson exclaimed to reveal his surprise.
"Yes,
Connel," the elf replied with his own note of wonder. "Didn't you know
that?"
"I was never
given the name of the final battle place. I always thought it was near
"No, it was
Connel. I might say that I find it interesting that you are from Connel.
Although I curse the prophesies for not warning us of
this, I sense the hands of fate working here."
"I don't
know about that," Ryson responded. "but tell
me more of what happened at Connel." The delver watched the face of the
elf as he eagerly awaited further explanation. He hoped the elf's tale would
bring him greater knowledge, more appreciation of his home town.
"Very well. The leaders, knowing they would face a
final assault by the magic casters and dark creatures, prepared a defense at
Connel. At that time, it was the last village between Ingar's Cove and what is
now called Sanctum. Delvers, like yourself, scouted the lands to the west and
found the dark creatures massing for an all out attack. Magic casters from
every race also gathered within their midst. It was their intention to take the
sphere by force before Shayed and her followers could bury it deep within
Sanctum and prepare defenses which they could not break.
"Reports
from the delvers were grave indeed. The force waiting for Shayed was
overwhelming. With the magic casters on their sides, the dark creatures were
nearly assured of victory. The sorcerers and wizards would cast spells from the
backs of the lines as the undead pushed forward. So great was their numbers,
that the dark creatures could not even visualize losing.
"The hope of
the elves dwindled. Even with the assistance of the other races, they doubted
their chances of survival. If they just faced the dark creatures in hand to
hand combat, they knew they would prevail, but the existence of the sorcerers
and wizards drastically reduced their chances. Shayed envisioned waves of the
undead, of river rogues, and mountain shags flowing into Connel under the cover
of goblin crossbow fire and powerful magic spells. Some of the leaders hoped
the magic casters might hold their power, for each spell cast meant energy
lost. Shayed, however, revealed this as a false hope. She knew the wizards and
sorcerers would unleash all of their might, for this was their last hope to
regain their full power.
"At the
suggestion of the dwarf leaders, a plan was developed and quickly enacted. All
the races knew that they would never stand a chance against the magic casters
in a long distance battle. Their only hope was to force the magic casters to
close combat. The dwarves built a powerful wall from stone within their caves.
Dwarves are known for their resistance to magic. The stone from their homes is
also quite resistant. The wall was built thick and all the races waited behind
it as the attackers moved forward. The spells cast from a distance would be
reflected by the wall. The loose energy would then be captured by the sphere
which remained in the hands of the allied races.
"Building
with speed and skill befitting their race, the dwarves constructed the wall
within half a day. It was finished just as the sun set. Members of the five
races—dwarves, elves, algors, humans and delver—waited together in fortified
positions behind this wall which circled the small
"As the
final light faded and darkness gripped the land, the assault began. Waves of
hideous monsters moved forward as bolts split the night from goblin crossbows.
The distant horizon sparked and glistened as wizards unleashed their powers.
This, perhaps of all things, signaled the folly of the magic casters.
"So sure of
their numbers and their power, the attackers never scouted their foes. They
were totally unaware of the wall. They flung spells with mad abandon, never realizing
that the races remained protected. This squandering of their power raised the
spirit of the five races. When they saw the spells bounce harmlessly off the
wall, they knew victory would be theirs."
"I assume
this wall you speak of is the ancient wall which still surrounds most of Connel
today," Ryson interjected.
"It is.
Dwarven construction is boasted to last forever. I believe that is no boast at
all."
Ryson rubbed his
chin. A crisp image of the barrier crossed his mind. "That's amazing. The
people that live in Connel pretty much ignore that wall. No one really knows
anything about it."
"Sometimes
that is the way of legends," the elf responded dispiritedly. "Over
time they are changed or forgotten completely. Those places, people and events
that are remembered are often revised to better fit the beliefs of the
day."
Ryson shook his
head. "But a wall of such significance to just be
forgotten? That's not right. I mean it's a wall that was built by
dwarves, and people that live there don't even believe dwarves exist."
Lief simply
shrugged. "Perhaps that is why the importance of the wall has been
forgotten. To carry forward the true importance of the wall would be to admit
the existence of all the races. Although I do not have contact with them, I
believe humans are more than happy to accept the belief that they are the only
inhabitants of this land."
"That's
true," Ryson admitted. "They don't even like to admit to the
existence of delvers. It is arrogant, but we've learned to live with it."
"Take heart,
delver. If I am right about the sphere, the humans will be in for quite a
surprise, but that is for later. As for the battle of Connel, the races did
indeed win the day. The magic casters squandered their energies and the dark
warriors were quickly turned back. The path to what is now called Sanctum was
clear. The sphere would be entombed."
Any hint of pride
or exuberance which developed during the tale, quickly faded from Lief's voice.
His tone turned hollow, almost sour. His expression firmly revealed his
emotions as it hardened with the conclusion of the lore.
"Unfortunately,
even after this victory by joining together, distrust began to rise. Bickering
arose between the different leaders about how to encase the sphere to make sure
that none of the races would be tempted to steal it. Trust and partnership
dissolved. Even Shayed could not bring them back together. In the end, a
solution based on the mistrust was fashioned.
"The sphere
would be encased with reflectors all around it. This would ensure that the
emissions of the sphere would be turned back upon itself. It would be caught in
an endless cycle of emitting and absorbing the same energies. It would also be
placed at the very depths of Sanctum, in a cavern where the walls and floor
were reinforced with sheets of diamond constructed by the dwarves. These walls
were impenetrable. They would prevent anyone from digging through the base of
Sanctum or tunneling underground to reach the sphere from below. No, the only
way to the final resting place of the sphere was from the top of Sanctum,
through its hollow core.
"Five tiers
were constructed as a path from the summit to the final resting place. Each
tier was given to a single race. Then, each race would develop barriers or
methods of protection which would guard the sphere. Each race kept their
defense mechanism a secret from the other. How they guarded that tier remains
an eternal secret to this day.
"I know this
as fact for only elves of the most high position are
allowed to know of our secret. I assume the same holds true for the other races
as well."
"I've never
heard of this before," Ryson confessed with obvious confusion. "You
say each race was given a tier, even the delvers?"
"That is
correct."
"But I've
never heard of any barriers placed in Sanctum. Even when my parents told me of
the legend of the sphere, they never said anything about the races putting in
their own secret protections."
"Perhaps
they do not know. Perhaps only the elder delvers are aware?"
"I don't
know," Ryson shook his head. "To tell you the truth, I really don't
think so. Delvers are not a closely knit group. We mix with the humans freely.
I don't know of any delvers that hold so closely to their heritage that they
might remember such a thing."
"Perhaps you
simply don't know of all the delvers. Perhaps those that may hold the secret of
Sanctum keep themselves hidden under veils of secrecy. Remember, before this
day you did not know of goblins or elves."
"That's very
true," Ryson acknowledged. "And I never heard portions of this story
about the sphere until now. So what finally happened?"
Lief's tone grew
colder still. "The obvious. The sphere was
entombed and each race placed their defenses within Sanctum. The dwarves sealed
the entrance to the tiers with observers of every race present. With no further
word, each race went its own way. The dwarves returned to their caves, the
algors returned to the desert, and we returned to the thick woods. The humans
and delvers, for some reason, remained together. As time went on, interaction
between the other races dwindled to near nonexistence."
Upon the elf's
conclusion, Ryson stood up on the thick branch he rested upon. He walked
further out to the edge of the tree and caught a glimpse of Sanctum. Its shadow
was present even in the faint starlight. He stood silent for long moments
considering that day long ago when the five races separated.
"How long
ago was that?" he asked somberly.
"Long before
any event you might be able to place in the current of time, that is, other
than the legends themselves."
"But you
said your father saw goblins."
"And he did,
but those were remnants of the final battle. Goblins escaped Connel and held to
this land long after that fateful day. Keep in mind my father was not yet born
when the sphere was entombed. Elves live a very long time. He is no longer with
me now and he lived for a very long time."
Ryson continued
to stare at Sanctum. "So long ago," he whispered. "All
this time, all of us living apart. Yet, at one time, they all stood
together at the top of that mountain. Standing together and watching the end of
life as they knew it. I can't imagine what they must have been feeling."
"Elflore
speaks of it as a time of joyful sadness," Lief noted.
"That
doesn't make much sense," the delver stated with his thoughts still
focused upon the image of the final congregation at the summit.
"It does if you
consider everything they faced," Lief responded quickly, as if feeling it
necessary to defend elflore. "They just won a major victory based on their
cooperation, yet now they mistrusted each other. Magic was removed from the
land. It meant no more evil sorcerers and corrupt wizards hoping to seize
power, but it also meant the end of healers and benevolent magic casters. The
dark creatures would be sealed off from the land, but they all sensed the
inevitable separation. The land was changing both for better and worse. It was
hard to feel joy without sadness, or sadness without joy."
Ryson remained on
his perch within view of the mountain. "Such a moment!" he exclaimed.
"I can't imagine what it would have been like." He turned his head
back to the elf. "Was anything said? Did Shayed make any final
remarks?"
"Shayed was
not there," the elf stated sadly. "Remember that the sphere continued
to emit energy which was deadly to the elves. During the battle, she remained
among the leaders and in close proximity to the sphere. In the end, the energy
destroyed her. She did not live to see the dwarves close the entrance."
"I'm
sorry."
"Do not be
sorry. She died as proud as any elf could hope. She served as the ultimate
salvation to the elves. In answer to your question, nothing was said. The
collapsing of the rock signaled the end. Before the dust completely settled,
the representatives of each race departed."
Ryson turned his
attention back to the mountain. "And so there it's stayed all this time.
The sphere's been trapped in that mountain containing all this power."
"That is,
until now," Lief said firmly. "There can be little doubt now that
something is wrong. The energy is again being released. I don't know how or
why, but the proof is conclusive. The return of magic, the
undead, and now the goblins. We can only hope that the sphere is not in
the hands of one of those foul creatures."
"But the
goblins said they were not responsible?"
"You can not
believe a goblin. They lie with the same ease they breath.
Even if it was telling the truth, there are other creatures such as river
rogues, mountain shags, and vampires. Any of these creatures may have found a
way to break back into the land. Perhaps, one of them has taken the sphere."
"Let's not
go making assumptions, especially a bad one," Ryson advised. "What is
it that you hoped to do now that we've reached Sanctum?"
"I wish to
climb to the summit and examine the opening. I need to see if there are any
clues as to what has happened."
"I
see," Ryson noted thoughtful. "Do you think it's a good idea that you
go?"
The elf raised an
eyebrow and frowned.
"Hear me out
before you get all annoyed," Ryson responded quickly. "What if the
sphere is still around up there. If it is, won't it
still be emitting the energy that is poisonous to elves?"
"The sphere
has the power to discharge energy which is poisonous to all races. There is
nothing to say that the energy is still directed at the elves."
"But there
is," Ryson disagreed. "When you told me about how Shayed probed the
magic, she believed that the magic would only be altered to focus on another
race after all the elves were destroyed. That hasn't happened yet. Also, you
said that the more sensitive elves already felt something. I think that means
the energy is still focused upon the elves."
"You miss
little that I say, don't you?" the elf said.
"I'm a
delver. I pay attention and remember."
"So what is
it you suggest?"
"Let me go
alone. I can climb the mountain faster by myself. I can examine the summit and
report back to you. It may be safer if you stay within the trees. Maybe they'll
help to shield you."
"I do not
know," the elf said reluctantly. "If the sphere has been taken, I
need to know who is in possession. There may be trails left by the invader,
trails you might not recognize. You have no idea of the markings of a river rogue or mountain shag."
"But I am a
scout," Ryson stated firmly. "I may not know exactly how to interpret
their trails, but I won't miss them. It's what I do. If there is anything of
significance up there, I'll find it, and I'll report back to you."
Lief soured. "I don't like it. I may need to see things
for myself in order to understand them."
"We can
worry about that after I make my initial scout. There may be no reason for you
to go, no reason for you to take the risk. Let me go first,
let me find what I can. If there's something you need to look at, we can deal
with that when we know for sure."
"It is a
delay."
Ryson shook his
head. "You have no idea how quickly I can move up that mountain."
Lief remained still upon his branch with his back to the trunk of
the tree. His elfish eyes held the delver firmly. "You are sure you
would do this?"
"I would do
this even if you weren't here," Ryson admitted. "There is something
up there I wish to see, something that's calling to me. I also wish to witness
the ground where the races stood together for the last time."
"You don't
know what you might find up there. You may be putting yourself in great
danger."
"Haven't I
done that already?" the delver asked.
"You have,
but you have yet to see a mountain shag."
"I'm willing
to take that risk."
"Are you,
delver?" the elf questioned harshly. "Tell me how wise it is to take
a risk of which you know nothing about. You have never dealt with a mountain shag. They are large and fierce. They would bite
you in half if given a chance. You speak of willingness, yet you understand
little."
"Can they
hide their scent?" Ryson asked patiently.
"What?"
"I asked if
mountain shags can hide their scent."
"Not that I
am aware, but what does that ..."
The delver did
not let him finish. "I will be careful to note the scent of anything
strange. I won't move into an ambush. I'll do this and there's not much you can
do to stop me. Even if you attempt to follow me, I will outdistance you in no
time. I don't think you can move through the rocks as you move through these
trees. I'll leave you behind, and short of placing an arrow in my back, there's
nothing you can do about it."
The elf regarded
the delver with an even greater frown. "I see. You have then made up your
mind?"
"I have."
The elf shook his
head. "There will be time for greater discussion in the morning. I suggest you get some
rest. Tomorrow will be an interesting day. I will take the first watch."
He said nothing
more.
Morning broke after
an uneventful evening. The elf woke with the first glimmer of light passing
through the trees. To his immediate left, upon a thinner branch, he spotted a
small nest made from twigs and interwoven branches. It was filled with berries.
The delver sat
opposite the elf. Straddling a thick bough, his legs swung freely in the air.
His right hand was cupped, holding another pile of the wild fruit. He ate some,
some he tossed to birds waiting in the higher branches.
"You've been
busy," Lief noted. Apparently, it did not take long for the elf to free himself from the bonds of sleep. Immediately, he was wide
awake.
"May
I?" Lief asked for permission before helping himself to
breakfast.
"Those are
all for you," the delver replied with a smile. "I've had more than my
share."
Lief brushed specs of bark from his hands before indulging in the
fruit. While chewing on the first handful, he allowed himself a moment
to cast a glance upon the surrounding forest. "Can I assume there has been
no sign of the goblins?"
"Not a
one," Ryson replied confidently. "I took the opportunity to do some
scouting while you were asleep. I checked the perimeter about forty trees out
from here. All I saw were a few deer. They didn't seem to be alarmed by anything,
either. They pointed out our breakfast."
"Very
good," the elf said and hastily finished the last morsel of fruit within
the nest. With casual ease, he stood up upon his perch. One hand rested on the
trunk of the large old oak, while the other brushed off his clothes. This
ritual complete, his hands found his sword, bow and quiver of arrows. He
rearmed himself as he prepared for the coming day. His visage turned grim as he
swung about to face the outline of Sanctum mountain.
"We should
lose no more time," he said bluntly.
Ryson leapt to
his feet with even greater ease than the elf had displayed. He jumped upon a
rope thin branch which wavered with his weight. He showed not the slightest
imbalance, his knees bending in unison with the swaying branch. "You
haven't forgotten what I said last night, have you?"
"I haven't
forgotten," the elf replied harshly, almost growling. "You intend to
climb Sanctum on your own, regardless of my warnings."
"I'm just
looking out for your safety," the delver responded firmly.
The elf grunted,
but made not further response. He made it clear he wished to renew their travel
as quickly as possible. Without waiting for Ryson's acknowledgment, he began
passing across the branches which stretched to the west.
Ryson joined him
with a shrug. He also said nothing further, keeping his silence as he hoped not
to stir the volatile emotions of his companion.
They moved
together, nearly side by side. Ryson no longer led, and Lief no longer followed.
The beckoning slopes of
It took little
time to complete this last leg of their journey. Even as the sun hung low in
the eastern sky, the delver and elf broke through the edges of
The days were
growing longer and the air warmed quickly. The fallen dew of the previous
evening dried hastily in the bright sunlight, especially in this clearing. The
rocks and boulders before them were covered more with dust than any remnants of
moisture.
After Ryson moved further away from the
trees, he paused to check his surroundings. First he looked to the skies. Clear
blue greeted him happily. He looked to the tops of the trees to gauge any wind.
They rustled with only a small breeze. He then looked to the sparse white
clouds which floated lazily through the sky. He judged the higher altitude
winds to be no greater than the light breezes which passed through the forest.
The delver then knelt and felt the ground. While still somewhat cool from the
dew, it was already dry.
"We won't
have to worry about any storms, at least for the early part of the day,"
he stated more to himself than to his companion. "I think it may be warmer
than normal for this time of the season, though. The ground holds more and more
heat now. And the sun will be bright. I'll have to keep it to my back as I
climb in order to maintain a clear view."
The delver then
turned his attention to the mountain. He paced about a few steps to his left,
then back to his right. He arched his neck to gain different perspectives.
"It won't be
a difficult climb at all. It's a steep slope, but it's straight and clean. I
can already pick out two or three paths which even a novice climber could
handle."
"It was not
chosen for its difficult exterior terrain," the elf stated, almost as if
responding to an insult. "Shayed and the leaders did not care how
difficult it was to climb. It was chosen due to its structure. Sanctum is a
mountain with a thick and deep base. Its sides are filled with rock and
granite, yet its core is hollow. At the time of the sphere's encasing, the
dwarves explained it was an extinct volcano where the opening at the top had
collapsed on itself. It would prove the safest place to construct the tiers.
The hollow core curbed the amount of digging necessary. The ..."
Ryson interrupted
the elf before he could continue. "Will you look at that!"
Lief was taken
aback as he tried to follow the delver's gaze, but could see nothing aside from
the rocky side of the mountain. "What is it?"
"The path of
the quake," Ryson responded hurriedly. His head darted back and forth and
all around. He looked back to the trees and then back up the side of the
mountain. He turned and paced in circles, always examining the landscape. He
shook his head in displeasure with his own carelessness. "I can't believe
it took me so long to see that."
"See
what?!" Lief asked desperately. The elf stood in
place but looked about with great alarm. He crouched ever so slightly and put a
hand upon the bow which remained over his shoulder. As his eyes darted back and
forth across the surrounding grounds, he could not find the origin of Ryson's
dismay. "What are you looking at?!" he demanded again, hoping to
uncover the source of any threat.
Ryson, for the
most part, disregarded the elf's agitation. Instead, he concentrated upon the
source of his misgivings. He spoke to himself, bitterly and scornfully, trying
to place the past events in orderly form. "I was on the trail of the tremor.
When I saw the goblins and then heard your story, I was more interested in
other things. I forgot what brought me here. That's really no excuse. I can't
believe it. It's been right in front of me all this time!"
"What has
been in front of you?" the elf nearly shouted, but still uncertain as to
any imminent danger, he kept his voice as guarded as his emotions would allow.
The delver turned
a near disbelieving gaze upon the elf. "Can't you see it? It's what
brought us here. The quake! It started from here! Look at the mountain. Look at
the unsettled ground going up the slope. Look at those cracks. That's the
greatest disturbance we've seen yet. Follow it down to the forest. Look at some
of the trees! That one's fallen over. Look at that one, it's almost completely
uprooted. Look at the leaves and branches on the ground. That damage is
fresh."
Lief took his
hand from his bow, now certain that the delver's dismay came not from a pack of
goblins, but from the signs in the land. He looked to everything Ryson pointed
out. The signs were not as clear to an elf, but he could not deny them.
"Yes, I
see," Lief responded with renewed alarm. "The very ground here has
been shaken badly. But are you sure this is where the quake began? Could you be
mistaken?"
"I doubt it.
I'm almost positive." The delver's neck arched back toward the mountain as
he pointed to signs so obvious to him. "Look at how the disturbance runs
down the mountain. Look there, a large deposit of small rocks and stones caught
by that boulder. That's a fresh avalanche. There's another one over
there."
Ryson pointed to
several different locations as Lief followed the directions with growing
confusion. He could not interpret these findings with the same degree of certainty.
Certain aspects appeared like nothing more than piles of sparse rocks.
The delver,
however, showed not the slightest hint of doubt. He spoke with the continued
shrill of excitement hinging upon his voice. He had indeed found what he had
been searching for, found that which the Reader Matthew asked him to search
out; discovered it almost by accident, but he found it none the less.
"The rocks
and stones are scattered in different directions. By the looks of the trees,
the tremor was much more powerful here. Certainly stronger than when it hit
Connel. This has to be the origin. I wonder how Matthew would react to this
news."
Acknowledging the
delver's expertise, Lief accepted Ryson's claim. He could not know how such
news would affect a human follower of the Book of Godson, but he knew his own
reflections. It brought little solace, and left him with greater concern. If a
tremor rose from this place, a place of great significance to all in the
Ryson shook his
head. "It looks pretty natural to me. I'm not sure I can even pinpoint...
Wait a minute. There it is!"
Lief tried once more to follow Ryson's eyes to the source of
attention. He was unsuccessful and frustration poured from him.
"There's
what?" the elf charged bitterly.
The excitement of
discovery filled the delver. He spoke with a quick tongue. "Roughly
thirty degrees down from the summit on the southern slope. Do you see
the indentation?"
Lief brought his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from any
glare bouncing off the mountainside. "No, I don't see
anything." His reply was sour and filled with growing impatience. Finally,
thankfully, his eyes penetrated the same area revealed to the delver. "Ah,
yes. Yes I do."
"That's a
definite break," the delver exclaimed. "Look at the shadows. Look at
how the sunlight fails to reflect at certain points. That's because there's
nothing there. It may be nothing more than a deep crater, but it may also be a
complete split into the core."
In search of more
information and now dismayed over the visible break in Sanctum's side, Lief remained eager for answers. "Can you tell anything
else from here?"
For the first
time, Ryson turned his attention completely upon the elf. As a scout, it was
his job… his duty, to provide the most needed information to those that asked
for his assistance. "What do you want me to look for?"
Relieved that the
delver finally gave him true attention, Lief spoke with a more controlled tone.
"I want to know why the breach is there. I want to know what caused
it."
Ryson nodded his
head in acceptance of the task. Before he answered, however, he posed a
question to the elf. He did so for reasons not quite clear.
"What do you
think might have caused this?"
"I do not
know," Lief responded sternly. "That is why we are here."
"But you're
afraid of something, aren't you?"
"Of course I
am!" the elf stormed. "We have found a breach in the mountain! It
reaffirms why the magic is free, but it does not explain why. What if it is the
work of a mountain shag? What if the sphere is now in
its hands?! That is what I am afraid of!
Do you see any signs up there which can tell you what caused the breach or
don't you?"
"Not from
here," the delver replied. "But I intend to take a closer look. I
want to ask you one more question before I go. Where did the dwarves seal the original
entrance? Was it near the same
spot?"
"No,"
the elf answered stoically. "According to elflore, the entrance was at the
peak. It opened directly into the center of the mountain and down to the upper
most tier. That breach is too low in the mountain."
"You're
sure?"
"Yes, I'm
sure!" Agony dripped from the elf's very words. "Why do you persist
on asking me?"
"Because something's calling me from up there, something at
the top. I felt it ever since you told me that story, but I don't think
it's the quake anymore. It's something else. I think it has to do with when
they sealed the cave. I need to see it."
For Lief,
impatience transformed into concern, as if the finding of the breach was not
enough. The elf looked to the delver guardedly. "I do not like to hear
that. In truth, I don't know what it means, but I saw what happened the last
time you felt such an urging and went off your original track. You walked into
the undead, do you remember?"
"Of course I
remember. I smelled the decay of the flesh. I think I also sensed the magic
which revived that thing. That's what I followed. But this is different. It's
not something I can smell, see or hear. It's something else. Something inside
of me is telling me to get to the top of that mountain."
"You put me
in a very difficult position," Lief stated anxiously. "I need you to
explore the breach. Unfortunately, I
also know how keen your senses are. Whatever is calling you may be just as
important. It may hold the answers to my questions. Time, however, is becoming
an issue. My people need to be told of what I have found. Should you forget,
goblins are appearing in this land. An unwarranted
delay may prove deadly."
"I don't
know what to tell you," Ryson replied honestly. "I know I have to
check out that crater up there. I even want to explore it. I can't imagine what
I might find if it leads to within the hollow of the mountain. Still, I know
there's something else I must see, something at the peak."
"Then, I
will offer but one plausible solution to both our problems. You go on ahead up
the mountain, and I will follow."
"Wait a
minute, I don't ..."
The elf erupted.
His anger boiled over. "No! I will not wait! Last night you made it very
clear to me you would do as you please and there was nothing I could do about
it. Now, I am telling you the same thing! You can not prevent me from following
you. I will not stay here just because you say so! I will make my own decisions just as you
have. Now, if you let me finish my proposal, you will understand what I
offer."
Ryson did not
argue. He bit back any anger of his own.
"Go
ahead," he said simply.
The elf continued
through heavy breaths. "You wish to explore a part of this mountain which
may or may not hold importance to us. I wish to find out what has caused the
breach and if there is any indication of the sphere's presence. I will follow
you up the mountain, but I will not hold you up. You will go forth at your best
speed and reach the breach first. Examine what you will, but be careful. We
must both remember that there are secrets hidden in this mountain that neither
of us may understand. If you complete your investigation before I have reached
the rupture and you feel there is nothing which alarms you, continue on your
quest up the mountain. Find whatever it is you seek, but do not delay. While
you are exploring the top of this mountain, I will examine the break for
myself. I will make my own judgments. If I find something which raises my concern,
I may not wait for you. I may leave to warn the other elves."
The delver
considered the proposal for but a heartbeat. He could not debate its logic or
its merit. "I understand, and I guess I can't really argue with any of
that."
"No, you can
not. Now, let us go. We've wasted enough time as it is."
With nothing
further to say, both elf and delver began moving up the mountain. The climb was
fairly easy with few obstacles, but within an instant the delver quickly pulled
away from his slower companion. Even as the grade of the slope increased, Ryson
bounded forward as if he were moving over flat, smooth ground.
For Lief's part,
the elf moved gracefully at times, but it was apparent that rocky slopes were
not the trees of Dark Spruce. He stepped with more conviction and with less
ease. He labored at times with the steep grade. It was also difficult for him
to keep his attention purely on the climb. The smooth movements of the delver
were certainly a spectacle to see. Lief took his focus away from his own
footing more than once to marvel at Ryson's speed and agility.
Ryson stopped
every now and then to check his surroundings. He took heed of the elf's
warnings and made sure he would not stumble upon anything blindly. He checked
for loose dust in the air which might signal movement ahead of him, and he
listened intently for sliding rocks. He sensed nothing. He peered down to the
forest and watched carefully for any signs of goblins. He smelled the clean
warm air, and in everything, he sensed no sign of danger.
He took time to
check the ground and saw the great disturbance in the soil. He was now certain
that the quake which rolled through Connel must have originated from this
mountain. Still, everything he examined appeared natural. He saw no signs of
man-made tunneling, no sign of digging or of excavating. The fallen rocks, the
loose soil, the raised ground; all appeared the natural result of a powerful
tremor.
As Ryson moved to
within range of the crater, he took a position behind a large boulder. He
pulled his spyscope from his belt and made his first examination from a safe
distance.
The hole in the
side of the mountain was as tall as two men and almost as wide. The sunlight
cascaded in at an angle and lit up the western edge of the break. From where he
stood, he could not see a bottom to this crater. Instead, it formed more of a
cave entrance. He knew it was very deep, he just did not know how far it
traveled.
He circled about
the opening before approaching. Remaining ever careful of ambush, he continued
to sense not a shred of danger. He stopped at several points to take a look
into the opening, but still he could not see the bottom of this crevice.
Finally, secure
that no danger of ambush existed, he stepped up
directly to the breach. He stopped right at the foot of the opening and peered
deep into its center. The break formed a tunnel which apparently bore clean
through. It dove through the rock at a forty-five degree angle and continued
far beyond the delver's vision. Nothing but darkness welcomed his sight.
Ryson knelt and
checked the rim of the opening. The soil was still loose, but the surrounding
rock felt sturdy, and there was no threat of collapse. He stood and felt the
top as well as the sides, still checking the integrity and soundness of the
rock.
Secure that the
tunnel would not collapse around him, the delver began to step down into the
crevice. He took several steps forward into the shadows. He bent his knees
slightly to compensate for the downward pitch of the floor.
Out of the
sunlight, he let his keen vision adjust to the dark. He soon could see further
into this newly created passage. It formed a long cavern which continued far
and deep down through the mountain. It curved ahead of him, thus he could not
see its ultimate destination.
He paused briefly
for a quick examination of the interior walls. He examined the sides of the
cavern and noted their texture. They showed no sign of being disturbed by tools
or explosion. Shovels and picks always made definite breaks, but the
surrounding walls were almost smooth, as if one solid cylinder broke through
the wall in one mighty burst. Explosions leave smoke residue and burn marks,
but he found neither.
Ryson took a few
more cautious steps forward. Unknowingly, he slammed into an unseen barrier.
The unexpected impact dropped him to the seat of his pants. He slid slightly
down the slope of the cavern floor until again he hit the same unseen barrier
with his feet.
Surprised, the
delver swung his head back and forth trying to find an answer. He saw nothing
behind him. Ahead was nothing more than the continued path of the tunnel. He
was alone in the cavern, yet something had dropped him to the ground. That
something remained directly in front of him.
From a sitting
position, he reached out his arms and his palms pushed flat against an
invisible wall. He pushed at the barrier, gently at first, then with greater
force. The unseen wall would not give. He lifted a leg and placed his foot
against it. He used all the leverage he could muster, but still the barrier
held him back.
"What in the
name of Godson in this?" he muttered to himself as he struggled against
the slope to return to a standing position.
Again, he reached
out and found the barrier with his hands. He followed it from left to right and
found that it extended from wall to wall. He continued moving his hands about,
trying to find a hole or a break. None existed. It appeared to cover the entire
width of the passage.
Ryson stepped
back and glanced around his feet. He spied a small stone and picked it up. With
a slight flick of his wrist, he gently cast the stone at the barrier. It was an
amazing sight. The stone floated through the air until it hit the barrier. It
jolted to a stop in midair and dropped straight to the ground. It barely made a
sound upon impact with the invisible wall, but its thud upon reaching the
ground echoed through the crevice. Shaking his head with puzzlement, he turned and
climbed back out into the open air. He stood outside the crevice considering
what he had found. He could not, however, divine a reasonable explanation.
Of course, the
unreasonable reared up with disturbing possibilities. Magic. Was this yet one more case
of something he could not fathom? He was growing weary of such explanations.
Just once, he would have hoped to venture upon something of a more conventional
nature, something which might not seem so implausible.
Ryson wondered if
Lief might explain this phenomenon. He checked the elf's progress. The elf was
closing on his position, yet he was still several paces away.
Ryson sighed. He
looked further up the mountain. He continued to sense a strong attraction from
a point near the top. He felt no danger, only a summoning. The pull was strong,
and he greatly desired to move further up the mountain. The existence of the
barrier, however, created an anchor which kept him in place. He waited at the
mouth of the crevice until the elf reached him.
Lief did not
appear winded by the climb. He stepped up to Ryson with diligence, and he
immediately noted the concern on the delver's face.
"What have
you found?" the elf demanded.
"I'm really
not sure," the delver responded without shame in admitting his confusion.
"I started checking out the hole and I couldn't see the bottom. I wanted
to see if it led all the way into the mountain, so I started walking into
it."
Lief listened carefully as he stepped up to the break in the
mountain wall. He peered into the shadows as Ryson continued.
"I got a few
steps inside," the delver explained, "then I hit something. It was
like a wall, but it's invisible."
If the presence
of the invisible barrier alarmed the elf, he did not show it. It was the breach
which held his concentration, a break in a mountain which was supposed to be
indestructible. "Did you see anything or anyone? Did you hear anything?"
"Didn't see
or hear anything," Ryson responded simply.
Lief would wait
not a second more before further examination of the tunnel.
"Let's take
a look," he stated bluntly.
The elf stepped
slowly forward. Ryson followed behind.
Ryson pointed to
an area a few paces forward. "The barrier's just ahead."
Lief stopped before he took more than three steps into the crevice.
"What's
wrong?" the delver asked pensively.
"Don't you
feel it?" the elf's agitation was clearly apparent on his face. His hands
shook slightly and he wrung them together as if hoping to remove an unwanted
film.
"Feel
what?" Ryson questioned as he watched the elf with growing concern.
The elf's voice
remained firm, but within his tone of both strength and impatience, a hint of
fear became noticeable for the first time. "The magic.
It is pouring out of this hole."
"You can
feel it?"
"Yes. Yes, I
can. This does not bode well. I should not stay here for long. Quickly, show me
this barrier."
The two continued
forward. Ryson walked with outstretched arms until he found the invisible wall.
Lief walked up to
it and examined it quickly.
"It is a
force field," he stated. "It will block our path. We don't have the
power to break it. Long ago, magic casters surrounded themselves with these
invisible fields of energy to protect themselves from arrows and stones. They
could concentrate upon their spells and release them through the force field.
It will keep us out, but it won't prevent the energy from flowing to the
outside. That's why the magic is able to escape. Follow me now. We need to get
back to the free air."
Lief stepped quickly upward. As he broke out into daylight,
he stepped to a safe distance away from the breach.
"Are you
alright?" Ryson asked with obvious concern as he followed.
"Yes, the magic is more dispersed out
here, but none of this bodes well. The power of the sphere is being funneled
out of the mountain through that crevice. It is just as I feared.
Unfortunately, I still don't know why. I can only imagine that some horrid
creature has found the power to dig through the mountain and break through the
diamond walls. It must be down there now directing the power through the tunnel
it made."
"I don't
think so," Ryson responded. "I checked the walls of the tunnel. It
didn't look like a dig. Also, the force which made it pushed out from within
the mountain, not from here inward."
The elf's frown
grew just as his eyes widened. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. I saw the way the rock was broken. All the
angles indicate the force came from the inside and pushed out."
"But that
doesn't make any sense. I know the sphere is still inside there. I can feel the
magic pouring out. Why would this cavern exist if that is so? If it was used as
an escape route to take the sphere to a safe place, I would understand. But the
sphere is still there!"
"I can't
explain it. I just know what I saw."
"Fire upon
all of this!" the elf said in frustration. "This has become too much
for me. I need counsel. I must return to my camp and explain what we have seen.
Although I am already in debt to your service, I ask that you accompany me. You
will help me in forcing the truth upon them."
"I'll
go," Ryson said quickly, "but I want you to come with me up the
mountain first. There's something up there I need to see. I think you might
need to see it as well."
Lief actually groaned. The weight of his problems became
more visible with each second. He shook his hands out in front of him as he
animated his consternation.
"We do not
have time to go on a delver hunt! Don't you understand what we've found?!
Sanctum has been breached! We do not yet know why or by whom."
"The answer
may lie up there," the delver replied, taking no offense at the elf's
outburst. While he had only known Lief for little more
than a day, Ryson already accepted the fiery spirit of the elf's personality.
Lief eyed the delver harshly. "Fire
upon you! Now you leave me no choice. I could not leave now if I wanted
to! I'm aware of your powers and your great senses. By telling me an answer is
so close, I could not do anything but follow you to whatever you seek! I only
hope what you say is true. To waste time now may be more than foolish, it may
be fatal." The elf paused. He sighed and groaned simultaneously. He
brought one hand to his forehead as if trying to wipe away his problems. When
he spoke again, his tone was forceful, yet sincere. "I will not hang that
upon you, though. I will only ask you to probe deeply that which you feel. Is it
merely curiosity to a story I spoke of which attracts you, or is it something
more? Examine closely! Do you truly
believe it is something related to what we now face or is it simply the hold of
a legend?"
Ryson took the
request with great seriousness. He shut his eyes and stood perfectly still. He
cleared his mind of all other thoughts. He focused upon the far off sensation
which beckoned him to climb further up the mountain. He seized it with every
fiber of his being. This was something his father taught him long ago. It was
the only way for a delver of his powers to choose a single path when many
called to him. This deep and pure moment of pointed concentration allowed Ryson
to truly judge that which held the greatest importance. He had done it before,
but he had never experienced what happened at that moment.
A voice spoke out
in his mind. It was not his. It spoke softly, yet with authority. It was most
definitely the voice of a woman, but it was a voice he had never heard before.
"You must come
now," the voice said simply. Nothing further.
The delver's eyes
shot open. He swerved around and looked up to the
"We have to
get up there now," he said with a great sense of urgency.
Lief showed no sign of disappointment at the decision. He
noted the look of astonishment on the delver's face, but did not ask for
further explanation. He accepted the delver's decision without hesitancy.
"Then let us
go now," the elf said simply.
Lief and Ryson
scampered further up the mountain without another word. Ryson slowed his pace,
refrained from breaking into a full gallop which would have surely left the elf
behind. He wished the elf to accompany him, to remain at his shoulder. He did
not know why, but he knew that they should reach the top together.
As they rounded a
corner ledge and stepped up to a level platform at the top of the mountain, an
answer presented itself. It offered explanation for the voice in Ryson's mind
just as it muddled his perception of reality to an even greater extent.
Standing upon the
open ground, or perhaps floating would better describe it, the ghostly form of
a woman greeted the two with silent appreciation. The spiritual outline was
undeniable, as was the joyful rapture which accented her dream-like
countenance. She cast no shadow even as she stood in direct sunlight. Her form
was ethereal, intangible. The outline of rocks behind her was visible through
every span of her silhouetted figure.
Not a shred of
her person carried any hint of color. Whiteness of different shades cast the
different parts of her body, gave her form greater identity. Her facial
features were distinguishable, but they remained softened, almost blurred by
the lack of any true substance. Her flowing gown simply glittered and shimmered
in the sunlight. Not even her long hair displayed a trace of anything besides
white; not brown, nor blonde. If Ryson held any images of a ghostly spirit,
this would certainly fit.
Lief traveled only slightly behind Ryson. When he came into
sight of the apparition, he froze. He could not find his voice to speak. His
feet anchored him in place.
Ryson, while also
jolted with overwhelming awe, was not quite as affected. He moved a careful
step closer, for the figure appeared to welcome them. He was unaware of Lief's
frozen state. His attention, his every sensation, focused on the
incomprehensible figure before him. It was a magnet for all his curiosities.
It was at that
moment that the delver noticed the pointed tips of the spirit's ears. Even with
the ill-defined edges of the apparition's silhouette, this trait was
undeniable. If this truly was a ghost, it was the spirit of an elf.
Unsure of exactly
what to say, Ryson's first words rambled out somewhat randomly.
"I felt
something calling me. Actually I heard a voice call me up here. I believe it
was your voice. I hope it was your voice." An honest statement, for
somehow the delver knew it was an honor to be acknowledged by this benevolent
apparition.
"Indeed, it was," the spirit said
with a continued beaming smile. "I am Shayed."
"You're
Shayed of the elflore legend?" the delver finally spoke up. Facing the
spirit, Ryson had completely forgotten that Lief was just behind him. The
unmoving elf could not make a sound and became a forgotten statue. Ryson's
attention thus remained unbroken and focused upon the form of Shayed.
"I am."
The apparition's mouth moved as she spoke, but her voice resounded from her
core, as if it were the center of her soul which generated the sound for her
words.
Even as untold
questions haunted the delver, one could not be ignored. "Aren't you
supposed to be dead?"
"My body
died long ago, if that's what you ask."
"So you're a
ghost?"
"I am
Shayed," the spirit replied as if it were a simple explanation.
Ryson rubbed his
forehead in exasperation. He had hoped for affirmation of her status, but she
seemed to decline. If she had simply admitted to being a ghost, his confusion might
have ebbed. As it remained with him, he fought valiantly for at least partial
comprehension. "You were dead, but now you're back. If I hadn't been
through so much in the last day, I would have never believed this. But you are
here and you are speaking to me. I can't help but accept that much." He
took his hand from his head and glanced back at Shayed. "Now, just because
I say I accept it doesn't mean that I understand it. If you're dead, you
shouldn't be here. I mean, I've never heard of anyone talking to ghosts before,
if you even are a ghost. Sure, I've heard ghost stories, but this isn't
right."
"Do you
believe in ghosts?" Shayed asked with a genuine desire to help him through
his confusion.
At that moment,
it was difficult, if not impossible, for the delver to explain what he
believed.
"I don't
know," he stammered. He made every attempt to answer the question, as if
he knew it might hold the key to final understanding. "I believe in souls,
but I don't know if I believed something like this was possible."
"It was not
before now."
Ryson shook his
head. "I don't understand." He sighed as if giving up.
"The sphere
is again radiating its captured energies into the world," the elf
sorceress said with a smile, reassuring the delver. "That is why your
beliefs are no longer as you would have them. Even in its corrupted form, the
return of magic means the return of many things. The ghosts in the stories you
spoke of might have indeed been souls trying to return to this land, yet
without magic they could not make the transition complete. That is no longer a
problem."
"So what's
that mean? Now, along with everything else, ghosts are going to start roaming
around just like everybody else! You know, this is really getting ridiculous.
Did you know that yesterday I was attacked by a corpse?" His words
emphasized his growing strain. Ryson's entire life became unraveled before him.
He faced a delver's nightmare. Nothing was certain; nothing held absolute
answers, whether simple or complex. Facts were no longer facts as this cursed
magic changed the rules he spent his life learning.
Shayed took
compassion upon the delver. Her hazy eyes warmed with a loving glow. "An unfortunate result of the corruption caused by the sphere.
I sense the confusion within you. I can give no remedy for that. The strain
bears upon you because of what you are. You are delver, that I am sure."
"Yes, I'm a
delver. I'm Ryson Acumen. But right now that's about all I know. I wonder now
if even that's true."
The spirit
laughed lightly, an open-hearted laugh. "That will always remain true. You
will always seek answers, even if they might change. View this as an
opportunity, Ryson Acumen. See this as a chance to relearn all that you
believed you knew. Could a true delver ask for more?"
"I guess
not," Ryson admitted. His tensions eased, but only slightly. He still
faced the seemingly impossible. He attempted to face it with the delver spirit
she strove to bring out of him. "Does your appearance mean that other
ghosts, or spirits, or whatever, will start appearing all over the place?"
"Spirits
will not simply return to this land at will. They are either
summoned and controlled by dark magic, or they must have some higher
purpose."
Ryson quickly
caught the underlying possibilities of such a reply. "Since I assume you
are not controlled by dark magic, I guess you have some higher purpose?"
"I do. It is
a purpose of the highest order. Do not, however, misinterpret me. I am not a savior,
not a heroine who comes with the power to end the threat which exists. I play
the mere role of messenger. My ability to alter the current course may only be
negligible, but it is a purpose which allows for my presence here. It is your
presence upon Sanctum which is of greater importance. I am limited to this
spot. I would not be able to travel to find you. Your presence here signifies
greater powers at work."
Ryson cast a
doubtful look upon the sorceress apparition. "That's the second time I've heard
that, and I'm not sure I accept it. You talk as if some force is guiding me
along. I don't think so. I was just doing a job and things just happened. It's
hard to imagine that something else might be responsible for me being
here."
Shayed cast aside
his doubts. She turned the attention to Ryson's motionless associate. "I
assume it was your speechless companion that spoke of it first."
Ryson suddenly
remembered that Lief was at his side. He turned to see the flustered elf still
and quiet. The delver placed a hand on the elf's shoulder as Lief's eyes stared
unblinkingly at Shayed.
"Hey, Lief." Ryson shook him lightly. "Are
you alright?"
Lief regained his voice, but his skin remained gray.
"It is Shayed!"
"I
know." Ryson could not help but chuckle at Lief's disposition. The stunned
expression and the gray pallor of his companion lightened the delver's mood
considerably. For the first time since they met, it was Lief who showed greater
surprise at the stirring events which had passed over them.
"Do not make
light of this," the elf clamored. His rising emotions finally chased away
the gray pallor and restored a flush red to his cheeks.
"I'm not
making light of this," Ryson said trying to bite back his smile. "But
you should see your face. It's getting red now, but before it was almost as
white as hers."
Lief clenched his
teeth but said nothing further.
Shayed beckoned
for their attention once more.
"Both of
your reactions are quite understandable," she said calmly. "I assure
you, I am glad to see both a representative of the delvers and the elves."
She looked squarely at Lief as if trying to recall his face. "What is your
name?"
"I am Lief
Woodson." The elf bowed slightly.
"I am
pleased to meet you." Her voice lost some of its inherent warmth as she
pressed the elf for his knowledge. "Do you know what is happening
here?"
"I know much
less than I would like. We have found a breach in the wall of Sanctum. It must
break to the hollow for I can feel the magic flowing through the rift. That
also tells me that the sphere remains in Sanctum. As for why
the breach exists or as to who might have caused it, I can not say."
"No one is
responsible for the breach," Shayed stated firmly. "The sphere itself
has broken through."
"That can
not be!" the elf blurted out, but he caught his tongue quickly.
"Forgive me, I meant no disrespect. I just could not believe that that was
possible. But if you say so, then so it must be."
"You need not
apologize, Lief Woodson. I understand your surprise, but rest assured it is
true. The sphere has used the power within it to break from its prison. It
created the quake to shift the mountain. At the same time, it discharged a
powerful blast of energy which created the opening in Sanctum."
"That would
explain what I saw in the crevice," Ryson acknowledged. He placed a hand
to his chin as he recalled the sight of the cavern. As delver's are capable of
doing, a clear image came into his mind and he could see the inside of the
tunnel with great detail. "It wasn't man-made and the force came from
within."
"Your senses
are keen, delver," the apparition said with an even warmer expression.
"They will be needed, that is why I believe there are greater powers at
work here."
"You talked
about a higher purpose before," Ryson responded. His voice revealed his
skepticism about these greater powers, but for the moment, he turned upon his
curiosities of Shayed's appearance. "Before you start talking about how
I'm needed, can you tell me why you're here?"
Shayed answered
without hesitancy. Her words held the conviction that made it clear to Ryson of
how she was able to lead the alliance of different races long ago. She spoke
with neither pride nor arrogance over her own importance. "I was
responsible for encasing the sphere within this mountain. I have come to
understand that my decision was neither right nor wrong. It simply delayed the
inevitable. Perhaps, it allowed for a time where the participants were better
prepared for what they must face. Only time can judge that matter.
"Regardless,
the time has come. The sphere can no longer be entombed. There is nothing which
might hold it. With each day it becomes more aware of its surroundings. It is
slow to think, slower to react. That is why it took so many cycles of the
seasons to break free. It will not take as long if the same approach is taken.
There is but one thing that must be done. The sphere must be destroyed."
The mere mention
of the destruction of the sphere extracted an animated response from Lief. His
own mind raced over the legends of elflore and how Shayed herself gave her very
life to prevent the wizards from doing what she now suggested. "Are you
sure?" Lief questioned with eyes nearly bulging.
"I mean not to question you, but... the Wizard War? Was it not fought to prevent that very thing?
What of the elves? Will they be safe if the tainted magic is freed?"
"They are
not safe now," Shayed replied with the first hint of sadness. The mention
of the war brought a flood of memories, of decisions long ago, actions when she
was of mortal body. She continued. "Nor is anyone safe. If it reassures
you, it is my belief, no, my acceptance that the destruction of the sphere will
not mean the end of the elves. It is the sphere which corrupts the magic, the
sphere which creates the poison. If the sphere is destroyed, so will be the
poison."
"Your word
is more than enough for me," Lief stated firmly. Any shred of doubt
evaporated with the conviction of Shayed's words. Lief now stood boldly willing
to take up the weight of any endeavor at the simple command of the spirit
sorceress. "If you command the sphere to be destroyed, then so it
will."
"Now, wait a
minute!" Ryson passed a glance at Lief. The issue of the sphere, the
momentary debate, and the final decision all seemed to pass him by. It was his
own question of Shayed's higher purpose that led to each, yet he remained as
ill-informed as a newborn. Sentence was past, and he remained uncertain of the
very issue at hand. He became almost as demanding in tone as Lief had displayed
during their journey to Sanctum. "Maybe all you need is the word of a
spirit and you're off, but I still need to know more about what in the name of
Godson is going on here."
Shayed spoke
patiently to the delver. "Your service is needed delver. The services of all races, in fact. The sphere can no longer
be held within this mountain or any other mountain. It has gained enough
awareness to realize it wishes to break free. There is danger for everyone and
everything. The sphere holds the power to destroy all life, to decimate all
races and end the eternal conflict."
"What
conflict?" The delver grew frustrated. With every explanation, Shayed created
only more questions.
"The
conflict between right and wrong, good and evil, happiness and sorrow; that is
the conflict I speak of. You must understand that the sphere works for neither
side. In effect, it has chosen the only other alternative between these
struggles; oblivion. It works for but one purpose, annihilation of
everything."
"The sphere? In this mountain, the sphere wants to
destroy everything?" Ryson's disbelief was obvious.
"I
understand your doubt." Her words rang with sincerity for such a thing
seemed almost unthinkable. "What is happening was never foreseen or
foretold. Even more disheartening, its final outcome remains unknown. Being of
spirit form, I have had the privilege to speak with powers that in different means
have passed the prophesies to earth. They all agree
upon one thing, the sphere resists the influences of both sides. In truth,
there is nothing which will indicate how any of this may turn out. This one
event may yet be that which decides whether the struggle between good and evil
continues or if oblivion will take both sides."
"You aren’t
making this any clearer to me."
Shayed spread her
transparent arms to her sides. "Think of this land as the great playing field where good and evil compete. It is an ongoing
struggle. The prophecies talk of these struggles and their ultimate outcome.
Now, however, this land faces something which might intervene, something which
might end the struggle in the worst way. Oblivion threatens to run over this
land. It threatens to end the struggle with neither side winning. It would mean
the end of good, the end of evil, the end of
everything. An endless void, no life, no struggle. An
option that is unacceptable."
"Can this be
possible?" the delver questioned.
"Unfortunately, yes," Shayed
emphasized. "It has been made possible by the awareness which was created
within the sphere. It is something I overlooked when I first probed the
energies. The sphere is neither the pawn of evil nor of good. It serves its own
purposes, and that is of oblivion. For some unknown reason, it wishes to end
the struggle."
"Let's say I
understand everything you're saying. What are we supposed to do? I know you
said we had to destroy the sphere, but do you have any idea of just how we
might do that? I just got through inspecting the tunnel. It's blocked. There's
a barrier that's protecting the opening to the inside of this mountain. I don't
think we're going to be able to break through it."
"You could
not break through it," Shayed acknowledged. "The sphere absorbed
powerful energies during the battle between the races and the magic casters.
The force field would be impenetrable."
"Well, that
doesn't leave us many options. According to my friend here, this mountain was
designed so digging is out of the question. He said that even the dwarves
couldn't reach it through tunneling."
"That is
also true."
Ryson continued
to press the spirit for answers. "You aren't leaving us with any choices
here. And you still haven't answered my question. I'm not even sure how to
destroy this sphere, but even getting to it is going to be a problem. It might
be impossible."
"It is not
impossible." Shayed spoke with certainty as she revealed the only true
option available. "You must reach the sphere by using the path which was
originally created to entomb it. You must travel down the five tiers. This is a
path that the sphere will not be able to block."
"It's
already blocked," Ryson exclaimed. "According to elflore, the people
that buried this thing put in their own measures to prevent anyone from doing
exactly what you want us to do. I don't even know what's down there."
"That is why
you must prepare for this quest. You must gather representatives from the five
races responsible for entombing the sphere." She took a moment to turn her
spiritual presence toward the inspiring view of the land. Her words became
musical in their conviction. "What has been broken must be mended. What
has been forgotten must be remembered. What you need to know and what you must
have, all awaits you. It is a time unequaled in history, a time when all powers
can unite for a common goal. There is much at stake, for both sides."
Her form circled
back to the elf and delver. "If this task frightens you, and well it
should, there are other aspects which must bring you strength. You are not
alone. Not you, Ryson Acumen as a delver, and not you, Lief Woodson, as an elf.
Do not speak of the barriers in this mountain as unbreakable. What barrier is
stronger than the line between life and death? I have crossed that barrier to
seek you out, to alert you to what you face. If I can do that, can you not
cross the barriers placed within this mountain? And what of
your appearance here? You wish to overlook the guiding forces which have
certainly had a hand in this, but these forces still exist. If it is their will
that you succeed, then all of the magic in the sphere doubled, even tripled, could not stop you."
Ryson exhaled
deeply. It did not sit well with him, this concept of divine selection. It made
him feel more like a pawn. He wished to believe he was here of his own choosing
or of mere coincidence. He attempted to clear his mind. He looked about and
again his senses seized that which was around him. He felt the warm sunshine on
his face. He smelled the clean air. As he inhaled, he noted a slight charge,
the presence of magic, and he realized the air was not as pure as he thought.
Finally, he turned to his companion.
"It sounds
as if we have no choice."
Lief looked deeply into the face of the delver. "Do you
truly believe her words? Will you accept this task?"
Ryson spoke as if
condemned. "I know she's not lying. I don't know why. But yes, I believe
her and yes I'll accept this task, even though it seems impossible."
"That is
good because I know she is Shayed. I knew it when I saw her. We must do as she
asks."
"I'm not
arguing." Ryson forced a smile, hoping to reassure the elf before turning
back to the ghostly apparition. "I'll do whatever I can. It might help,
though, if you give us an idea of what to do first."
"It gives me
strength to hear that," she answered with a great smile. "You must
leave me for now, you must realign the five races that once fought together to
defeat Ingar and the magic casters. An alliance is needed once more, and that
is where you must begin. You must seek the dwarves, the algors, and the humans.
Once you have gathered what is necessary to begin the quest, return to this
spot. I will be waiting for you. Go now, you have much to do."
"We shall
go," Lief spoke with authority. He even bowed deeply. He spoke as if
chosen for hero's quest. "And we shall return."
Fool's quest was
perhaps how the delver saw it, but Ryson kept his thoughts to himself as Lief
uttered a determined vow before they both descended Sanctum.
"We shall go
first to my camp and I promise their assistance as well as all the elves. We
shall destroy the sphere."
Lief and Ryson
descended Sanctum and made a hasty return to Dark Spruce Forest. Again, at
Lief's request, they traversed the forest by climbing through the branches.
This time Lief took the lead, and he sped through the trees without hesitation.
His back to the delver, the elf set a boisterous, ambitious pace. Taking longer
leaps, avoiding thick pines which might slow their path, and moving with fierce
determination, Lief blazed a southerly trail through the thick umbrage.
Ryson did not
have to strain his abilities to maintain stride, but he noted the unyielding
desires of the elf. He wondered what Lief might do if he was unable to keep up.
He sincerely doubted that the elf would wait or even look back, so resolute
were his movements.
They did not
converse as they had done on the previous trip through the forest, though there
was much Ryson wished to know. The delver caught glimpses of Lief's expression
and decided not to start a debate over the soundness of Shayed's request, or to
question the validity of ghosts in their world. Only the sounds of their travel
broke the silence. For now, even the squirrels and birds seemed to avoid them,
as if the elf's fiery determination was a danger to be avoided. The silence,
the unanswered questions, the resulting loneliness; all served only to lengthen
the trip.
They traveled on
for the rest of that day. Ryson's only diversion was to map their movements in
his mind, taking stock of small landmarks that scouts without his powerful
senses would surely miss. He calculated their length of travel, but while they
crossed a great portion of the forest, it remained evident that their journey
was far from its final destination. Ryson was aware of the breadth of this
forest and his calculations placed them a good distance from its heart.
They did not
break at night, but continued through the dark. When the first light glowed in
the east, this section of the forest resisted the sun. The woods became thicker
as branches from neighboring trees intertwined to make continuous bridges. Leaping
from one tree to the next became unnecessary. Lief continued to lead and he
stepped with a quick pace over the sturdy branches. Their journey continued
throughout that morning, and the elf moved as if the long travel meant nothing
to him. It became apparent that he wished to reach his camp as soon as
possible. He would accept no delay.
As any good
delver would, Ryson made mental notations of their direction, the grade of the
ground below, and of different passages within the trees. Remembering the
threat of the undead and of the goblins, such a practice became more than scout
related. If retreat became necessary, he would be more than able to choose a
path within the forest which would yield the greatest safety. He took notice of
all that surrounded him. He sniffed the air, he put an ear to the wind, and he
constantly watched for even the slightest shadow of movement. Late in the
morning, he noticed such signs and he whispered an urgent warning to his
companion.
"Lief! Get
back here. Something's ahead of us. Five trees up and over to the right. Ambush." The volume of his words was soft to conceal
their meaning to the intruders, but his tone was harsh, filled with alarm.
Lief did not stop
nor did he whisper his response. He turned his head and replied openly without
fear of being overheard. "Do not fear. It is the guards of my own
camp."
Before Lief could
continue, several elves jumped upon him. They quickly disarmed him and took
hold of his arms and legs. Such was his surprise; he lacked the ability to
escape before they had firm hold. As his eyes widened with fiery emotion, he
roared with anger.
"What are
you doing?! It's me!" Outraged, he spoke as if the action defied
explanation. "Free me at once! Have you lost your minds?!"
The other elves
kept their grip firm. They would not release him even at his roaring
insistence.
Ryson quickly
ascertained the situation. His head bobbed to the left and right, then above.
He saw movement circling about. They were tying to outflank him. Without
hesitation, he scampered further up the tree.
As he bolted, two
elves from opposite sides leapt for his position. They did not expect the speed
of the delver and were left to grip only open air. Undaunted and believing
their own skills more than a match for their quarry, they recovered and
followed.
Ryson paid little
mind to those climbing after him. He continuously peered to neighboring trees.
He quickly spotted another guard standing in wait off to his right. He leapt to
his left to a clear tree. He climbed even higher and soon outdistanced the two
following him. With a higher perspective, he paused for but a moment as he
scanned everything below him. He pinpointed the locations of several more
guards, and in an instant, he chose a path which would lead him to the ground.
Six or seven
elves closed upon the delver with overconfidence. Secure in their abilities to
scale the trees, they believed the chase over. In all of their past encounters,
a treed opponent was a captured opponent. They could not expect what would
happen next, and they gasped at the blur in which the delver moved.
Ryson shattered
the elves' confidence as he dove downward with matchless speed. He leapt
quickly from branch to branch, descending the trees as if they were nothing
more than a staircase or a smooth and even ramp. Within two blinks of an eye,
he was upon the ground, a position where no elf could catch him.
If his speed
confused the elves when he moved through the trees, it blinded them now. He
danced around the forest floor, making quick turns and using the cover of thick
trunks. Dashing in zigzagging fashion, he would not reveal his true direction.
The tree-born elves had no chance of following.
Lief continued to
struggle against those that held him, yet even he was silenced by the
maneuvering of the delver. After his companion appeared to retreat, he found
his voice and yelled out in anger.
"You fools! He was here to help!"
One of the elves
which held him snarled with his own anger. "How can he help? You brought a
human to our camp."
"He's not
human, he's a delver," Lief insisted. His own determination boiled over,
and with a mighty twist, he broke free. He faced the leader of the guards with
obvious malice. "Fire upon you! Do you know what
you've done? Do you have any idea what's going on? If he is gone, it may mean the end of us
all."
Lief was about to
strike out at the elf captain when Ryson's call from far below checked his
anger.
"I haven't
left," the delver called out.
An elf low in the
bough of a nearby tree caught a glimpse of the delver. Instinctively, he pulled
an arrow from his quiver, strung it, and sent it hurling toward the assumed
invader.
Ryson heard the
arrow cut through the air. Reflexively, he ducked behind a thick tree trunk and
watched with disbelieving eyes as the arrow whisked by. It would have hit him
in the heart.
"One more
like that and I will leave!" he yelled angrily.
"Hold, do
not go!" Lief yelled before calling out an order to the
other elves. "The rest of you, cease your attack. Let the delver
be."
"Why?!"
the captain demanded. "He is an intruder. He is a threat. With all that is
going on we can not afford to take a chance!"
"What
chance?" Lief replied heatedly. "The delver
is with me. That should be more than enough to allow him to pass."
"Is
it?" the captain replied scornfully. "When has a human, or delver for
that matter, been allowed entry into our camp? Why should we allow it now?"
"Because I am telling you!"
"That means
nothing! You have been gone. I am responsible for the protection of this camp.
You did not see what I had to witness. The slaughter of two young elves by
river rogues."
The response
caught Lief off guard. He blurted out a questioning response. "River
rogues? Attacked the camp?"
"Yesterday!"
"That is
unfortunate, but it is even more reason why we must not be detained. You will
let me pass, the delver as well."
The captain's
face grew red. He was not accustomed to taking orders, but giving them.
"You will be detained as long as I wish!"
It was the delver
that ended the battle of wills. He spoke with authority from his position on
the ground. He stepped out into the open with his own look of defiance, daring
the elves to give chase, or perhaps even fire another arrow. "Detaining us
won't help your cause. We know why the river rogues have returned. I'm not sure
what they are, but I can tell you they're not alone. I've faced the undead as
well as goblins. We have been to Sanctum. The mountain has been breached."
Momentary silence before a harsh reply.
"You may
well lie!" the captain shot out a yell.
"Why should
I?" Ryson demanded angrily. "I'd prefer to just take off now and
forget any of this ever happened. You couldn't stop me."
"Very well,
then leave!"
"I can't do
that. I spoke to Shayed."
Again, a hush
fell over the guards. Indecision mounted.
"That's
impossible," the captain finally replied.
"Is it? I
bet you thought river rogues were impossible before yesterday, but they seem to
be back."
Lief spoke up
again. His anger was now replaced with stony resolution. "This will end
now. The delver and I must speak with Mappel."
Lief said nothing more.
He stepped by the guard captain. His movement made it clear he would not accept
being stopped again. He climbed down the tree and walked directly to Ryson. He
paid no attention to the other elves still in the trees.
"Fire upon
the sphere," he said more to himself as he reached the delver. "So
much is happening; so many things changing. River rogues attacking elves again.
Goblins in the woods. I doubt there is any turning
back now. I think our life in seclusion has ended."
"I can't say I completely understand
what you're feeling, but I have some idea," Ryson said and sadness tinged
his voice. "It seems reality is now upside down for all of us."
"That much
is true."
Suddenly,
strangely, a look of pride warmed Lief's face. Such dramatic swings in emotion
were becoming even more common for the fiery elf. When he spoke, his words
reflected that same pride. "But keep in mind what we have seen this day.
We have spoken to Shayed! A privilege no one else can boast of. That in itself
fills me with hope."
Ryson smiled at
the elf's optimism. "I guess then we should get on with her wishes."
"Indeed. We
will speak to Mappel. He is the eldest of the camp. He holds the elflore and
will instruct us."
Lief turned back
to where the Elf guards had stopped him. He remained on the ground and showed
no sign of climbing a tree. He motioned for Ryson to follow.
Lief and Ryson
walked deliberately across the forest floor. Lief led, keeping his eyes forward.
Back straight, shoulders squared, his gait revealed his defiance to any elf
that might consider stopping them. He stepped methodically over downtrodden
paths where underbrush had been beaten and crushed away by constant elfin
travelers.
Ryson noted the
paths with curiosity. He wondered why the elves would take to the ground at
this portion of the forest where the trees were yet numerous and intertwining
branches made continuous bridges from one to another. While there remained many
elves in the trees overhead, others watched below the branches, behind heavy
trunks or bushes.
Ryson watched
them all with a wary eye. He made particular note of those that carried bows.
For now, they made no threatening moves, but they remained as cautious as the
delver, and their numbers increased.
Ryson could only
assume they were closing upon Lief's camp, but as of yet, he spotted no cluster
of huts. While he saw stocks of food at the bases of trees, and small burning
fires in deep holes, he saw no signs of a permanent camp. He wondered what an
elfin home might look like, whether it would be a sturdy shack constructed from
boards of wood, a hut of tangled branches and a thatched roof, or a tent spun
of vines and leaves. There appeared nothing to answer this question for he saw
no signs of any large shelters.
He could not
imagine how far they would have to walk to finally reach this camp, for he saw
nothing in the distance with his sharp eyes. Yet, he knew that the elf guards
staked positions in this area and more and more elves moved about, both on the
ground and in the trees. In the end, he could not help but posing the question
to Lief.
"Where is
this camp of yours?"
"You are in
it," Lief responded with casualness.
"This is
your camp?" Ryson exclaimed with obvious surprise.
Lief laughed lightly as he continued walking. "What did
you expect? A
sprawling town like those of the humans. We do not live like that. We
have little need for gaudy buildings. The forest provides us with everything we
need. In return, we leave it as undisturbed as possible."
"So you
basically live out in the open?" Ryson questioned.
Lief showed no sign of insult. He spoke with continued good
will, almost as if he found the delver's reaction somewhat amusing. "Is
that so surprising? Do the deer construct their own houses, or the wolf, or the
bird?"
"The wolves
and birds do," Ryson replied. "The wolf digs a den and the bird makes
a nest."
"That is for
the benefit of the young," the elf insisted. "We do the same. We
build shelters out of branches. We place them in the trees and upon the ground.
We use them to protect our children and to store our more delicate items. But
they are only temporary. They can be dismantled and moved in a moment's notice.
Like that one there."
The elf pointed
to an orderly arrangement of thick branches which formed a small tent-like
structure upon the ground. Its top barely reached Ryson's waist. It stood
against a large cherry tree which assisted in support and added an umbrella of
leaves overhead.
"That
particular shelter holds the wild cherries harvested from that tree. We have
found that keeping them under cover preserves them and protects them from
birds."
"What about
the dormant season?" Ryson wondered aloud. "Don't you get cold?"
"After the
last harvests, we become more like the bear and the squirrel. We build more
shelters but we also become less active. There is no sense wasting energy when
food is scarce. We will build small fires at night and feed upon stored nuts.
We simply wait for the growing season to begin the cycle anew."
"That's a
tough life." the delver remarked. He considered those without a warm
fireplace and a thick roof over their heads as less fortunate.
"Is it?
Or is that just your point of view? A point of view
which does not sound that of a purebred delver. You might have been
living with the humans for too long, Ryson Acumen. Perhaps we live as we were
all supposed to live. It may very well be that the lives of humans, and the
delvers that choose to follow, are the truly tough lives, as you put it. I
would think it may be more difficult to try and ignore the seasons, to continue
as if nothing changed from the growing season to the dormant season. Yet, isn't
that what humans attempt to do? They
build towns and roads so that their lives remain uninterrupted. They work the
same amount throughout the cycles of the season. There is no period of
hibernation, no time to rejuvenate. Perhaps, this is the difficult life."
Lief paused as he focused upon the figure of an elf leaning upon a
long, thick branch. Lief's face became etched with shadows as he
considered the point of their return. "Enough of that
for now. It is time to concentrate on the struggle at hand. Come with
me."
He motioned for
Ryson to follow as he approached the other elf.
Ryson stepped
cautiously and remained slightly behind his companion. The elf holding the
branch appeared much older than Lief. Remembering how long elves lived, Ryson
could not imagine how many cycles this one had seen. He concluded that this
must be the elf elder, Mappel, which Lief spoke of.
Mappel stared out
into the trees even as Lief moved near. He made no sign of acknowledging either
of the two. He even showed no stir of agitation at the approach of a delver, an
obvious stranger to his camp. His stare was neither vacant nor cold. His eyes
held a twinkle of life, even if they seemed ignorant to the advance of a
stranger.
Mappel stood
erect. While the hands of time etched their work as lines in the elf's face, it
could not yet bend Mappel's bones. A long flowing forester's cloak covered
Mappel's figure. His hair, a mixture of charcoal, gray and silver, hung limply
from his head. The thin wisps had lost their texture over time and could not
hide his pointed ears.
The long branch, straight as a hand-drawn line, served as a
staff for the elder elf, and he leaned upon it with great reliance. Ryson
judged the branch to be slightly taller than Mappel and of stout thickness.
Each end was flat and most of the bark had been smoothed away, either by time
or by the caresses of Mappel's hands. The elf held to the branch with
comfortable ease as if the staff was now simply an extension of his arm.
Lief reached out and grasped the branch
several lengths below where Mappel's hand gripped it.
Upon Lief's touch
of the staff, the elder was almost startled into awareness of the two before
him. He blinked once, than twice. He looked over the delver with great
curiosity. His own expression quickly became shadowed. He offered no greeting.
Instead, he spoke as if continuing a previous conversation.
"It was not
enough for you to reject the magic as a blessing of the land," the elder
elf rattled. "You insisted with your doubts. Now the land is heavy with
danger. What have you brought upon us, Lief Woodson?"
"It is not I
that has brought anything upon us," Lief replied. At first his voice
betrayed his annoyance with the elder, but he quickly gritted his teeth and
toned down his emotions. "It is impossible to say what is responsible for
the fate we now face, but I bring you news of both darkness and light. As I
warned the camp previously, the sphere is again radiating its tainted magic
upon the land. It is not, however, in the hands of an enemy. It is the sphere
itself that has broken from its own entombment. It remains in Sanctum, yet it
has managed to create a break through the very side of the mountain. Through
some dark power unexplained to me, the sphere has gained an awareness of its
captivity and refuses to be encased any longer. It will bring oblivion to the
land."
Mappel rotated
his hands about the long branch in his grasp. His
words expressed his doubt over the younger elf's story. "You have gathered
much information in a short time, information which seems beyond your
abilities. How is this possible?"
"There are
two major factors." Lief's voice quickly brimmed with pride as he revealed
the encounter with the elf sorceress. "The most
important being that I have spoken with the spirit of Shayed. She has
explained the awareness of the sphere and its refusal to be encased within the
mountain. That is how I can be sure of the fate we face."
The elder elf
appeared greatly mystified by this explanation. He leaned upon his branch with
greater reliance as if the weight of this revelation staggered his balance. His
eyes narrowed and his head tilted as his expression communicated his
expectation of further explanation.
Lief gladly
continued. "Shayed has told us that the sphere remains out of the hands of
any enemy. Its effect upon our land is based solely upon its own will. It is
the land's misfortune that the sphere has gained its awareness. It works for
neither good nor evil. It simply wishes the total extinction of all life. As to
why, I can not explain."
Mappel took no
time to mull over the possibilities. Instead, he questioned Lief further.
"You said there were two factors which aided in your retrieval of this
information," he noted almost harshly. "What is the other?"
Lief presented Ryson with a wave of his hand. "He
stands beside me now. I came across a delver as I traveled toward Sanctum. His
name is Ryson Acumen. I found him locked in a struggle with one of the undead.
When I learned he was full-bred delver, I sensed the hands of fate bringing us
together."
"Do not be
quick to judge what might be fate," Mappel interrupted. "These are
uncertain times. We have no idea what forces may or may not be at work. But
continue with your explanation."
"Fate or
not," Lief conceded, "that I can not say, but I can say that Ryson
Acumen was indeed a boon to my travel. We agreed to follow the path of the
quake which initiated these troubled times. It led us, as I suspected, to
Sanctum. His powerful senses detected a group of goblins. With his help, we
captured one and found that the goblins were not responsible for the freeing of
the sphere."
Ryson suddenly
felt the urge to help with the explanation. In listening to the story, he
himself found it unbelievable even though he experienced everything described.
Knowing the severity of what they faced, Ryson felt it essential to convince
the elder elf.
"What he
says is true," the delver exclaimed. "I did fight what he calls one
of the undead. I couldn't believe it myself at the time, but it tried to kill
me. We also fell upon goblins and captured one. I have one of their swords. You
see." Ryson held up the crude short sword for the elder elf.
Mappel showed no
interest in the weapon. His eyes fell upon the delver and spoke with a voice so
crisp, it defied his age.
"Do not feel
as if you must prove something to me. I still have eyes and ears. I see, hear
and feel what is happening. I might not have accepted the truth at first. I
hoped that the magic might have returned naturally, but now I am sure that it
is the work of the sphere. That means the return of goblins, among other
things."
"You believe
now?" Lief asked with his hope rising.
"Much has
happened during your absence, Lief Woodson. The magic has grown within us.
Though it may be difficult to accept, I know you, and I know you have no reason
to lie. Your story corresponds with much of what has already happened here.
Those gifted have even been able to cast minor spells. The magic,
unfortunately, is not pure. I am not so old that I can't sense the poison
within it. It will undo us all. If the magic has returned,
then why not Shayed? There is also the matter of the river rogue and the
fate of the two unfortunate elves. Now, you return to me with continued proof.
As much as I would like, I can not deny the tragedy which faces us."
"It may not
have to be a tragedy. Remember, we have spoken with Shayed," Lief reminded
him with words trimmed in pride and optimism. "It is her counsel that we
might yet defeat this thing which now haunts us."
Mappel found only
small reassurance. He spoke more of his growing confusion. "The return of
Shayed, even in spirit form, fills me with hope. It appears as if this is
indeed a momentous time, a time which may decide the fates of many. Yet, this
all remains so distressing. It distresses me that elflore gave no foreshadowing
of this event. The return of Shayed signifies a time which must be of great importance.
Why must we face this without a shred of help from the lore?"
Lief hesitated
for a moment, but finally forced himself to speak.
"There is
more which you might find troubling, Mappel. We will not be able to simply bury
the sphere. It is the word of Shayed that this will no longer be allowed. She
makes other requirements of us. In truth, she commands that we destroy the
sphere."
The words
lingered in a moment of silence, stabbed at the elder and drew his ire.
"Were those
her words or yours?!" Mappel questioned sternly, hissing like a startled
rattler.
Lief stood his ground. His eyes remained upon the elder, but
his voice dropped in tone. "They were hers." It was apologetic in its
offering.
Mappel remained
unsatisfied and eyed Lief questioningly. "You know the story of Shayed.
During the Wizard War she defied the magic users because she would not destroy
the sphere. Now, you tell me differently. This does not follow with elflore.
Does Shayed truly advise the destruction of the sphere?"
Lief could answer
no differently. "Yes, she does."
The elder elf,
filled with disbelief, turned to Ryson. "What do you say to this,
delver?" Mappel demanded. "Were you present? Did Shayed truly order the destruction of the
sphere?"
Although he found
Mappel's outburst most disquieting, Ryson answered with the simple truth.
"Yes, she did."
The elder gripped
his branch slightly tighter and grumbled something unknown to Ryson. He ripped
his sight from the two that stood before him and his eyes bore into the trees.
He thumped his staff twice against the ground in revolt against what had been
told to him.
Ryson and Lief
waited quietly before him. The delver remained uncertain of what to do or say.
He looked to Lief who stood, more or less, patiently waiting for Mappel.
After his
momentary display of resistance, Mappel fell completely into acceptance of what
he viewed as nothing less than a tragedy.
"Then so it
must be done," he sighed, his shoulders sagged with the weight of the
revelation.
Mappel turned the
prospect over in his mind. As if condemned to a sentence of hard labor, he
faced it with a will to begin as soon as possible in order to end it as soon as
possible. "To destroy the sphere we must reach it first. You say it is
still within Sanctum. What of this breach? Can we use it to reach the
sphere?"
"No,"
Lief replied flatly. "The sphere protects the opening with a force
barrier. The magic may exit, but we may not enter."
The elder dropped
his head in frustration.
Lief continued. "Shayed advises us to use the tiers as
a path to the sphere. It can not be blocked by any power the sphere might
induce."
"The tiers
are protected in other ways," Mappel shook his head.
"I know, but
we have no other choice."
"You realize
what this means?"
"We must
enlist the help of the other races," Lief began, again sounding
apologetic, but when he recalled his own encounter with the spirit of Shayed,
unyielding determination filled his voice. "I realize the weight of this
matter, but it is also what Shayed commands."
"Shayed may
command, but it may not be all within our power," Mappel spoke with
sadness. "We must depend on the assistance of others for this request. The
tiers have proven to be the divisive matter surrounding all the races. To break
the secrets of the tiers is to break centuries of an accepted settlement that
led to the new order. This can not be done easily."
"It will
have to be done," Lief insisted.
"You speak
as if we can snap our fingers and it will be so," Mappel lectured.
"You have no idea of what we face. Not only must we convince others to
join our cause, we must defeat the barriers themselves. Although I know only of
what the elves placed within Sanctum, I know that passing this will not be
easy. I can only imagine what other horrors might await. The tiers were
constructed so that no one might reach the power of the sphere."
"Do we have
another choice?" Lief questioned. "Forgive
me, if I appear impudent, but I see little value in debating the issue. We must
do what we must do."
"It is not
only up to us," Mappel countered. "The barriers of Sanctum are beyond
the unity of elves. They represent the separation of the five races, and thus,
they include the five races. Just because you and I might say Sanctum must be
entered does not mean others will agree."
"It is not
just you or I," Lief reminded, "it is Shayed
as well."
"So it
is," Mappel allowed, "and perhaps it is time to break the symbol of
the pact which separates the races. I don't know how we might accomplish such a
thing, but if it is the command of Shayed, it must be attempted."
"Excuse me,
sir," Ryson finally spoke. He found the exchange between the two elves
interesting and enlightening, but the near defeatist attitude of Mappel puzzled
him. As he questioned Mappel, his voice carried in low tones, hoping to remain
as inoffensive to the elder as possible. "I can't claim to know much of
what you're talking about, but it sounds as if you're dooming this before we
even get started. Will it be so difficult?"
Mappel turned his
disheartened glance upon the delver. He answered with grace. Though his
response was lacking in detail, he made a genuine attempt to answer the delver
with all honesty. "If you must ask, I must reply that it will be far more
difficult then you can comprehend. It is not simply the barriers we must
overcome, but the ages of mistrust and separation."
"Well, that
may be," Ryson countered. "I really don't understand any of this
fully, but I've continued along with what I've seen and heard so far. That may
not be much, but consider what I have seen. I didn't know of elves or goblins
before. Today, I saw a ghost for Godson's sake. I haven't walked away
yet."
"You are a
delver," Mappel reminded. "It is your natural instinct to follow
anything which is new and unknown to you. Take my word; it will not be as easy
to convince others to assist in this task. The stakes are very high, as is the
mistrust."
"So high
that others won't realize we all have to work together?"
"That is the
point. The races no longer work together. That has been the way. Even the
threat of total extinction may not allow for a change."
Ryson remained
unconvinced that their plight deserved such skepticism as to ring a death bell
before they even began. He simply would not accept such a pessimistic outlook.
If he had, he would have given up on his own sanity at the first encounter with
the walking dead.
"How can you
sound so sure?" he questioned.
Mappel answered
as if reading from history. He spoke with a gaze that spread across the forest.
"I can be sure for I have seen the changes over time. I have seen the new
order evolve and I have seen the races move further apart. To change this would
be more difficult than reversing the flow of tens of rivers. It is the reversal
of a path which occurred long ago. In a time you might not be able to imagine,
this land held magic. The magic was the common denominator for the different
races. They lived in the land aware of each other's presence. They worked
together, traded and respected each other's existence. They held a common enemy
in the dark creatures.
"All this
ended, however, when the sphere was buried in Sanctum Mountain. The things
which kept the races together were gone. There remained nothing which they
might hold as common. There was no longer a common foe and there was no longer
the link of magic. Distrust appeared almost immediately. The very creation of
the sphere was such a consequential event; it changed the very fiber of our
existence. It led to the new order of things, an order which has been in place
for a very long time. It will not be so easy to undo."
Ryson appeared
undeterred by Mappel's words. "If the creation of the sphere could create
such a situation, then maybe it is exactly the destruction of the sphere which
is needed to change it."
"But in
order to destroy the sphere we must end the separation. Do you not see the
paradox?" Mappel questioned.
"I see it.
We need to destroy the sphere to bring back common ties among the races, but we
need for the races to come together to destroy the sphere. It's a circle. I'm
aware of that, but we have to enter the circle at some point."
"That is
where the very problem lies."
"It's only a
problem if we make it one," Ryson insisted. "You seem to be willing
to accept what we have to do. How can you be so sure others will not?"
"Because elves have remained in contact with the dwarves.
I know of their stubbornness. I also know of the humans. They wish to ignore
the history of the legends. They live without knowledge of the other
races."
"Very few
are stubborn when their lives are at stake," Ryson countered. "I've
noticed that before. I suggest we get them to realize what's going on. You
spoke of changing the course of a river. Maybe you should compare it to
changing the tide of the ocean. The tide has been going out, but now it's time
for it to come back in. It's just like everything else. It takes time, but it
does happen."
Mappel raised an
eyebrow. His face softened, lines of age seemed to disappear miraculously. He
even allowed a smile to cross his thin lips. "This is the second time I
have been comforted this day. First, I hear of Shayed's return. Now, I hear a
delver advising me of what I should already know. Thank you.
"Lief has
done well to find you. You instill within me a faith that we might complete the
impossible." The transformation of the elder elf continued, now both in
his tone and in his expression. The self-doubt vanished, replaced with
confidence and a willingness to grasp hold upon the hope held out by the
delver. His eyes and his voice now held a fire which was known to Lief but not
yet seen by Ryson.
As Mappel spoke,
his words now echoed across the forest. Other elves looked to them with growing
curiosity. "We must now feed a fire which must burn to save ourselves as
well as the land, but there is much more we all must do. Our path is now
chosen. We must send forth representatives to speak with the dwarves. They will
be the easiest to gain an audience. The humans will be the most difficult. They
might not even accept our very existence."
"Won't they
have to if you come out of hiding?" Ryson questioned. The thought of elves
walking down the streets of Burbon or Pinesway was all too vivid in his
imagination. Such a sight would certainly cause a stir and raise the curiosity
of all.
"Hmmph,"
Mappel exhaled almost indignantly. "You may live with the humans, but I
see I understand them better. They have grown arrogant in an age where they
assume they are the superior race. It will not do them well to find otherwise.
They will resist such knowledge. I don't know if they even carried the ancient
knowledge with them. We may never find a single human with the knowledge of
their own part in the Wizard War."
"Let's not
get too pessimistic about that, either," Ryson advised. "I know of
people that keep close ties with what we call the legends. In fact, I was sent
out by Reader Matthew to investigate the origins of the quake. He is the leader
of the Church of Godson at Connel."
"Connel? Does that mean you also come from
Connel?" Mappel asked.
"Yes, it
does. Lief already told me of how Connel was the place of the final battle in
the fight for the sphere. He thought it might mean something that I come from
there. Respectfully, I think it's just coincidence."
Mappel's
expression revealed his interest at the delver's remark. "Who is to say
whether it means anything or not? It may
be as you say or it may be more. Indeed, we have nothing to guide us. Thus, it
is not wrong to grasp at even the slightest hope that other powers are at work.
Whatever the case, I believe Connel to be significant in this matter. Connel is
where the five races made their stand together, and it will be the place where
we shall rejoin."
Ryson's eyebrows
flipped upwards. "Are you sure about that?! Connel is a place where the people don't
exactly warm to strangers, let alone strange things. They're going to have a
hard time accepting elves just walking into town."
"They will
have to accept more than that," Lief stated fervently. "Wait until
they see the dwarves, or the algors for that matter."
"That's just
what I mean," Ryson explained. "Don't you think a less conspicuous
place would be better for such a meeting?"
"No. It must
be Connel," Mappel spoke with a newfound determination. He accepted the
cause with all his heart and soul. He would move forward now with all the
intensity he could muster. "Its potential importance is too critical to
overlook. The other races may even be more willing to help fight a common foe
when faced with reminders of our last joint battle. We shall bring all the
races back together within the confines of the ancient wall which saved us so
long ago. As for the humans, they will simply have to accept what they see. The
world as they know it is finished no matter what happens. Either the sphere
will destroy all life or we shall destroy the sphere. In that case, the magic
will return and the land will revert to how it was during the time of
elflore."
"I guess
so," Ryson said reluctantly. His image of elves walking through a human
town re-entered his mind, but now he saw them in the familiar streets of
Connel. He wondered how those he had come to know would react to such a sight.
"It is how
it must be," Mappel stated firmly. "Now, about this
Reader Matthew. He is versed in the book of Godson?"
The question
brought Ryson's attention away from his personal thoughts. "I would have
to say so. My guess is he is the best hope at finding someone who might know
what the humans placed in Sanctum as protection. If he doesn't, I don't know
who will."
"I shall see
him myself. Lief shall accompany me."
Both Ryson and
Lief displayed great surprise and concern.
"You're
going to go to Connel?" Ryson questioned.
"Do not be
alarmed. I may be old, but I still can travel. This is an important time for
us. It is my responsibility. If it calms you, we shall remain inconspicuous. We
can appear to be just as humans. No one will know of us until we locate the
reader. We will disclose ourselves only to him."
"Are you
sure of this?" Lief asked.
"I have no
choice. It is my place. It is also your place. You have spoken to Shayed.
Without aid of elflore, we must choose the obvious. It may have only been
chance that it was your lot to come across the delver in the woods, but it
might just as easily have been the guiding hand of fate. In some unknown
manner, you have been selected to play a role in this event."
"What about
me?" Ryson wondered aloud. "Does my part end here? Do I go with you
to Connel? I promised to send word to Reader Matthew. If I accompany you, I can
report to him directly. I might also help explain what's going on."
Mappel shook his
head, but eyed the delver with veiled expectations. "If Matthew is indeed
a follower of Godson, we will not need you to explain. As for your part, I
don't believe it is over. That, however, is up to you. I would have a task for
you that is both important and dangerous. Whether you
feel it to be your role, that is up to you."
The weight of
Mappel's gaze fell heavily upon the delver, and Ryson almost hesitated in
asking the obvious question. His delver instincts, however, would not allow him
to remain quiet.
"What is it
you want me to do?"
"As I have
said before, I will send word to the dwarves about this matter. That will need
no special messenger. They will hear my word and I am sure they will
understand. They will send representatives to Connel. The algors are another
matter. They are a strange group. They live by their own accord. I never
claimed an understanding of them. In truth, I wouldn't know how to find them. I
know they live in the desert south by southwest of our camp. That,
unfortunately, is the extent of my knowledge. But here I find myself graced
with a delver, a purebred delver, and by elflore I know it is within you to
find anything that might be hidden. I can advise you on what to look for, what
to sense. With your abilities, you have the greatest chance of locating
them."
Ryson's eyes
widened at the suggestion. A loose description from the legends of an algor
filled his mind. It left much to his imagination, and even more to disbelieve.
"I've never even seen an algor before. Even if you tell me what to look
for, it's not going to be easy. The desert is a tricky place. The wind and the sand
can play tricks. Even if I do find them, what then? I
don't even know what language they speak."
"They speak
the same as ours," Mappel answered simply.
"But what
will I say to them?"
"What you
must, what you have already said. You have convinced me that the time of change
is at hand. Use the same emotion. Tell them all you have seen and heard, and I
mean everything. Do not leave out a single item because you might fear it is
too outlandish. The truth is that the algors may agree to meet us if your story
is curious enough. Do not ask me to explain it. As I said before, they are a
strange group. The more eccentric the story, the more inclined they are to look
into it. It is how elflore describes them."
"You also
said this might be dangerous. Are you talking about the algors?"
"No, the
algors will not harm you. They will either hide from you or simply ignore you.
That is not where the danger lies. In reaching the desert, you must cross
territory which is now certainly inhabited by mountain shags and river rogues.
That is the danger you face."
"I
see." Ryson rubbed his chin as he considered the proposal.
"Do not feel
forced into this matter, Ryson Acumen," Mappel counseled. "Look
deeply into yourself. Let your own feelings dictate your answer."
And he did
address his feelings. This day he walked within the camp of elves, spoke with
an elfin leader. Now, the exquisite opportunity of chasing another legend
opened before him, something previously beyond his imagination. As a delver, he
simply could not turn away.
"My own
feelings tell me to go," Ryson admitted, answering not only Mappel's
request, but the doubts in his own mind. "Not because I don't fear the
danger, because I do. It's because as a delver I wish to find an algor. If I
reject this, I would regret it. That much I'm sure of. Maybe this is my chance
to finally prove that I'm not really mad, that this really is happening."
"He should
not face it alone," Lief insisted. "He will not know how to deal with
what he might encounter. Let me go with him. You do not need me in your travel.
A guard will suffice."
Mappel shook his
head sternly. "Your lot is cast, Lief Woodson. But I agree he should not
face the dangers alone. I will send a guard with him. I will send Holli
Brances." The elder elf paused. He considered a gnawing thought echoing
through his own mind. He spoke of it almost as if the thought defied logic.
"I also realize that a short sword taken from a goblin will not help him.
He shall take the Sword of Decree. It will be needed in times yet to come, and
perhaps it is foolish of me to give it to him. Risking its loss when it is
truly needed seems more than foolish. For some reason, though, I sense it is
necessary."
"The Sword of Decree?" Ryson looked confused.
"A powerful
weapon," Mappel responded. "A weapon thats
purpose was forged at the time of Sanctum. A weapon which
will be needed again if we are to succeed. However, I sense an
intertwining of events, and I believe it must go with you now."
"It is a
great honor he bestows upon you," Lief added. "The sword has not been
carried in battle or in defense as long as I have lived."
"The truth
is that it was created just after the Wizard War," Mappel emphasized.
"The sword is enchanted. It has been held in reserve for an occasion of
dire need. Its time of service has come, and it will be needed for us to reach
our objective."
"I thought
the sphere held all the magic?" Ryson remained confused. "How can the
sword still be enchanted?"
Mappel offered a
simple explanation. "The sphere took that energy which was free. It could
not pull the power from items which held it inertly. That is why the sword
remained unused for so long. It can hold its power for an eternity. As it is
used, however, the power will dwindle. The enchantment can not be recharged as
long as the magic in the air remains tainted. Each time the sword is used it
will lose a portion of its enchantment."
Another hundred
questions erupted in the delver's mind. He blurted out the first, his curiosity
apparent. "How do you use this sword?"
"Like any
other sword, but with greater energy. When it touches your foe, it will do far
more than cut or stab. It will unleash power that will burn the very soul."
Here, Ryson's
curiosity faded into aversion.
"I don't
know if I want such a sword," Ryson stated seriously.
It was Mappel's
turn to reveal confusion. To bestow the sword was to bestow honor. He could not
imagine why someone would refuse. "I do not understand."
"I don't
want to use anything that's going to burn someone's soul," Ryson admitted
without shame. He did not wish to insult the elder or the honor, but the sword
was simply beyond his desires. "I wasn't happy with carrying the short
sword."
Lief spoke up,
now with greater authority. "Your mind might change when you face a river
rogue. It would not show you the same kind of mercy. There are simply times
when you must act with force."
Ryson stood firm
to his principles. The thought of holding such a sword left him ill at ease. As
a delver, it was always easy to identify danger before stumbling upon it, or to
dodge threats as he dodged the arrow of the elf guard earlier that day. He
understood defensive procedures, but shied away from any offensive undertaking.
"I can
understand people protecting themselves," he explained, "but I don't
agree with going out with the intention of killing. I can't believe you would
want me to go out with that attitude."
Lief spoke
coldly. "I realize that you may not understand this, but yes we would.
Right now, you are still looking at things as if the world you knew was still
intact. It is not."
"If you're
talking about indiscriminate killing," Ryson responded quickly, "I
doubt my feelings on that will ever change. I was taught to respect life, all
life. Even if I have to accept the existence of goblins, river rogues and even
elves, you can't expect me to give up my values."
"Your values
are based on a reality which will soon change greatly."
Mappel waved his
hand making it clear he wanted the debate to end.
"I
understand your values are important," the elder allowed. "They make
you what you are. I doubt anyone will expect you to change them, but your
perspective must change. You must accept what is about to happen."
Ryson spoke
undeterred of his position. "There is still right and wrong, good and
evil."
"Yes there
is. Even more so now. The evil which lurks in the
wilderness may strike at you horribly. I do not ask you to hunt this evil down.
I ask you to carry the sword and use it to protect yourself. Use it to make
sure your task succeeds. It might mean the end of everything if you fail."
"What about
this Holli person. Can't you give her the sword?"
Mappel reflected
upon the suggestion for long moments. "I can, if you insist, but then I
will have to make a request of my own. I offer the sword for your protection
not hers. If you wish her to carry it, you must always remain at her side. Do
you agree to this?"
Ryson found the
option acceptable. "Sure."
Mappel did not
allow this reply to end the discussion until he made one more request.
"You must also vow to protect the sword, as it will protect you. Use it
when necessary, but not with disregard. If something should happen to Holli,
you must take up the sword. It must then never leave your side. I can not speak
further of this. You simply must accept that if the sword is lost, so are we
all."
"If it's
that important maybe you should hold onto it." Ryson offered.
"I believe
it must go with you. Do you accept this responsibility?"
Ryson nodded.
"Very
well," Mappel spoke as if the matter was concluded. "Lief, summon
Holli Brances. She will receive the sword and guide our new friend toward the
desert. It will be a difficult path through the forest. It remains thick in
that direction."
"Do not fear
for him on that," Lief stated as he turned to fulfill Mappel's request.
"He climbs as well, perhaps even better than I."
"That is
high praise indeed. Come now, delver, it is time for me to tell you all I know
of the algors."
"Before you
do, I have one more question for you. It seems to me we're forgetting one piece
of the puzzle."
"Which might
that be?"
"The
delvers," Ryson admitted. "Even if Reader Matthew can help us with
the humans, and I can convince the algors, we still have no idea what my people
put in Sanctum. I can't even tell you who to ask."
"I
see." Mappel paused as he closed his eyes to think for long moments before
continuing. "Let us not fret upon that now. I will see what the reader can
tell me and we shall see how you fare with the algors. As for the delvers, you
are here with us at this moment. That is enough for now. We will deal with the
puzzles of Sanctum when we bring others together. Perhaps, Matthew will help us
with this problem."
Ryson only
shrugged.
Holli Brances
moved alongside Ryson as they headed toward the Lacobian desert. She obviously
took Mappel's request seriously for she remained ever within arm’s reach. The
Sword of Decree remained sheathed at her side, but Ryson knew it would take her
less than a second to wield it against any potential foe.
Ryson made a
point of watching Holli closely when she was first introduced to him. If
Ryson's life would be dependant upon this elf, he wished to know as much about
her as possible. As only a delver would, he examined her movements, expressions
and replies. He realized immediately that her personality was as diametrically
opposed to Lief Woodson's as possible. Where Lief's emotions would burst forth,
Holli remained stable and controlled. Lief had previously
showed signs of humor, but Holli remained stoic and reserved. Ryson would
never forget the look in Holli's face when Mappel presented her with the sword.
She barely breathed as she took possession, and a smile dared not crack her
lips. She held it with the care a mother holds a newborn, but not with the same
emotion. She said not a word. She only nodded her head as if willingly
accepting some Herculean task.
Holli Brances
looked very much like an average human female, except of course for her pointed
ears. She stood tall and slender, but no more than some of the appearance
conscious girls from Connel. In truth, her most distinguishable characteristic
was her darting eyes. Even when resting, her eyes flashed about constantly,
drinking in every surrounding image. She took nothing for granted. She looked
about, scanned the horizon, and watched for the slightest movement in all
directions. One pass was evidently insufficient, for this surveillance
continued unendingly.
Unable to ignore
this trait, Ryson found the habit catchy. After but a few moments with the elf
guard, he too, began to constantly scan his surroundings. Such diligence became
strenuous as the two ventured further southward.
The forest
increased in its density. Thick branches overwhelmed the travelers, limiting
their movements and choice of paths. It also restricted their visibility which
obviously discomforted the elf. She twisted and turned her neck with greater
speed, hoping to offset the limited sight distance with a quicker review of
everything around her.
Ryson considered
making conversation to ease her discomfort, but he quickly realized such an
action would only compound her difficulties. He knew that his questions or
comments would be viewed as a distraction. He remained quiet, concentrated on
finding the quickest and easiest path through the trees.
Holli did
eventually speak, but only to request a slower pace. She could not keep up with
him if he concentrated solely upon movement. That would mean she could not
fulfill her obligation of protecting him. Every time he began to pull away, she
rebuked him, almost ordering him to remain within her grasp.
The remainder of
this long day ended as the final light of dusk disappeared. Holli requested
they remain in the trees for the night and Ryson did not object.
They barely spoke.
She told the delver to sleep the entire night. She would take the whole watch.
She made some reference about being trained to rest while remaining awake.
Indeed, a highly trained elf guard could go unencumbered for several days
without actual sleep. They only needed breaks from strenuous activity. Holli
found such a break as she perched herself between two thick boughs of a large
oak tree.
Ryson bent back
the branches of a soft blue spruce, tying them together to create a make-shift
hammock. He sprawled out without fear of falling and drifted into a deep sleep.
When he woke, he could not recall a single dream.
Holli woke the
delver at the first light of day. They both used the new light to inspect the
surrounding area. Ryson even dropped to the ground to check for signs of
intruders. Holli followed him unhappily. She did not wish to leave the trees,
but she could not forget her duty to remain at his side. Nothing was found, and
they decided to move forward. They were traveling again before the sun rose
above the tree line.
Ryson kept them
moving at the quickest pace Holli could follow. To his pleasure and surprise,
she showed no signs of fatigue from the lack of sleep. They moved southwest and
she made no complaints over his speed. If anything, she seemed more apt to
follow the delver as if she spent the night preparing for the task, both
mentally and physically.
Their diligence
paid off as the trees became more diluted. The dire heaviness of the forest
began to lift. Pines and deciduous trees spread themselves further apart. Their
travel quickened, unencumbered by the stifling forest. Before them, thick
branches formed long bridges in nearly every direction. As the number of trees
dwindled, the space around them opened. Holli found it easier to survey the
encompassing grounds, her eyes swept across the landscape with broad scans.
The heightened
senses of the delver grasped the forest's weakening hold in the direction they
set. The soil content below them was becoming rocky and dry. Moisture in both
the air and the ground was fading. The trees showed signs of a greater struggle
to reach the sky. Browning leaves and withering branches were a testament to
the harsher environment of the desert that waited well ahead of them.
The Lacobian
desert remained far off, they would still have to travel the sparsely vegetated
and rocky hill regions which separated the forest from the desert, but by all
accounts, they should reach the outskirts before late afternoon.
Before the sun
was overhead, they were forced from the trees. To Holli's dismay, this form of
travel was no longer possible. The trees grew too far apart for them to leap
from branch to branch. They tried for a while and each showed the leaping
ability of the nimblest of squirrels. The soil, however, became dryer with each
passing step. The forest thinned to a cluster of trees and then a smattering.
Soon, the landscape was nothing more than rocky terrain spotted with more
sagebrush than healthy trees.
Holli reluctantly
accepted the inevitable and they trotted upon open ground. Only the increased
range of her vision gave her any solace. Without the thick forest to block her
view, she could see far off to the horizon in each direction. She remained
cautious and at her urging they shied away from the steeper of the hills or any
large boulders. She directed them in a path that would keep them in areas of
little cover.
Ryson questioned
that tactic as he recalled the weapons of the goblins. Walking through the open
ground left them vulnerable to crossbow fire. He asked if they might be safer
keeping close to the hillsides. She disagreed flatly.
Holli knew the
path she chose left them without protection, but it also reduced the chance of
ambush. This was her greatest fear. She knew enough of elflore and listened
well to Mappel's advice. The goblins did not pose a true threat in this area.
They hated the dryness of the desert, perhaps almost as much as the elves.
Thus, she did not fear an attack from crossbows. If they were to be assaulted
now, it would be by creatures that cared little for using arrows.
She explained no
further and they continued forward. They made excellent time and the scent of
the dry desert air soon became clear even to Holli.
Upon a high
clearing, Ryson squinted his eyes and peered across
the horizon. In the far distance, the sparsely vegetated hills and rocky
terrain were replaced by sandy dunes. Tall cacti reached toward the sky. They
numbered more in the distance, but a few jutted up from the land they now
traversed. Ryson examined the ground and saw more signs of sand accumulating
among the rocks and gravel.
"The hard
ground is starting to give way to the desert," he exclaimed. "Pretty
soon we'll be walking on pure sand. Can you see it in the distance?"
"Yes,"
Holli stated simply. "It will not take us long." She said nothing
further.
Ryson, however,
felt the need to talk. He saw the vast emptiness of the desert before them, and
its far reaching desolation brought loneliness to his spirit.
"You know,
when we get there, I'm not really going to know where to go." He offered
this as much as a warning as an attempt to open a conversation. "So far,
I've been traveling with a known objective. I mean, I knew how to get to the
desert, but when I reach it, I won't know much after that. I don't know how to
find algors. I might be leading us into nothing more than empty sand. Don't misunderstand, I'm not worrying about us getting in any
trouble out there. We can get food and water if we need it. It's just that we
may end up wandering around for weeks and I still might not find what we're
looking for."
Holli's eyes
remained focused on unseen threats. Her reply was short and to the point.
"Trust your senses, delver. Mappel does and so do the forces that sent you
to us."
Ryson grunted. It
seemed every elf he met couldn't resist tying his meeting with Lief to some act
of fate. Couldn't they understand the curiosity of a delver and how it led to
his current predicament? It was the tremor which initiated his desire to renew
explorations. It was his brush with the walking dead which commenced his
meeting with Lief Woodson. Yet, every elf, from the spirit of Shayed to this
elf guard, wished to act as if Godson himself placed him within their midst.
Could they not understand coincidence?
The delver could
not refrain from discharging his annoyance with the suggestion. "Here we
go with that again. I keep trying to tell you all that I'm not here by any
special providence. I think you're all putting too much faith in something that
may not even be a factor."
"I only know
what I am told and what I see," Holli replied simply.
"I just see
a coincidence," Ryson insisted. "But no one else seems to
agree." With a shrug, he turned his attempt at conversation back to the
subject of the Lacobian desert. "Anyway, I'm just warning you that I
really have no idea where to go when we reach the sand. I remember everything
that Mappel told me, but I don't think it will help me choose one direction
over another. I just want you to understand that."
"I
understand that we are both on a mission. You will do what you must, and I will
guard you."
Holli did not let
the conversation deter her from scanning the rocky terrain. Small rock
formations filled the area amid a barren landscape. Brown hills, basically
appearing like large, rounded boulders buried half underground, broke the level
plane of the horizon to the north and west. Any signs of Dark Spruce were far
behind them. Cactus and sagebrush presented the only break from the hard
surroundings, and their own brown, dry, harsh appearance accomplished little in
offering any cheer.
Again, Ryson
could not help but notice the ever watchfulness of the elf guard. "Did you
know that watching you do that can be very unnerving?" he asked.
"You've been looking around in every direction since we started. I have to
admit you have me more nervous than I think I've ever been. I keep thinking
that something's going to jump out at us. It was hard to deal with in the
forest because we couldn't see very far. Now, that we're out in the open, I've
been able to deal with it a little better, but it still gets me uneasy when you
look behind us. What is it that you keep looking for?"
Holli spoke as if
the answer should be obvious. "I watch for things which may or may not be
there. If I do not search, I will not be prepared."
"But
shouldn't one look around here tell you that we're not being followed or that
nothing waits ahead of us in ambush."
Holli simply
could not agree. "Things change from moment to moment. What I see now may
change within an instant. I will not know unless I check."
"So you
never rest at this?"
"Not while
on duty."
The delver
considered the proposal. He understood the initial inspection, which fit with
his own delver instincts, but to keep examining the same thing, that sounded
more like tedium. It was a delver's desire to find something new, not to
inspect for consistency. He knew he would find it irksome to reexamine the same
rock formations over and over again just to remain alert. For him, for all
delvers, there were other ways to sense change or even danger. The sounds of
loose rocks being disturbed ever so slightly, tracks off in the distance, or
the scent of an intruder; these warnings would gain a delver's attention, but
constant visual inspection seemed arduous at best.
"I imagine
it would get pretty boring just looking around at the same stuff all the
time," he remarked. "There hasn't been much going on since we got out
of the trees. I don't know what you could be looking at, but we can see for a
pretty good distance out here. Not much is happening."
"That is
exactly what a guard wants to see," Holli acknowledged.
Ryson raised an
eyebrow as he considered the short statement. "I guess that's true. I
suppose if things kept changing you'd be pretty nervous. Let me ask you this,
have you ever been ambushed by anything?"
Holli answered
without hesitation, though a note of displeasure drifted among her words.
"Not while at a post, and not on escort, but once on patrol."
"What does
that mean exactly?" Ryson seized upon the response, hoping to coax
something new from the tight-lipped elf guard.
"A post is a
fixed position. It is the easiest duty. A guard will take a position and remain
there for extended periods of time. Since we do not move, it is much easier for
us to spot an intruder. On patrol, we must move about a designated area. Since
we are moving, it makes it easier for an intruder to spot us first. That would
give the intruder an advantage. An escort is by far the most difficult. It
covers a wide scope of the land. There is usually no designated area, and there
is little time for the guard to become acquainted with the territory. It is
what I do now."
"That's the
most difficult?" Ryson wondered allowed, trying to compare the differences
in his mind.
"Absolutely. Consider what we now face. We travel in an
ever-expanding path, we have no idea what lies ahead. It is next to impossible
to maintain continuous points of reference. Our surroundings change with every
step."
"I see. And
you've never been ambushed while escorting?"
"No, it is
what I excel at." Holli showed no sign of pride. She stated it as a simple
fact.
Ryson hungered
for more information about this elf. He wished to know what might propel
someone to remain ever so vigil. "Can you tell me what happened when you
were ambushed on patrol?"
Holli frowned. It
was obviously a topic she did not like to remember, but again, she did not
hesitate in replying.
"It was
early after my final training. I was patrolling the eastern edge of our camp. I
chose a path too high in the trees. I mistakenly believed it would give me the
best vantage point. It did not provide sufficient cover. I was spotted by a
raiding party as I made my rounds."
"What kind
of raiding party?" Ryson asked with obvious curiosity.
"A group of elves from another camp."
"Really, other elves? You'll attack each other."
"Just as
humans and delvers will," Holli responded, this time with a tone of
indignation. "Elves compete much the same way as other races. In harsh
winters, there is always a struggle for food."
"So that
explains why you need guards. I was wondering about that. From what Lief said,
I gathered that the threats to the elves disappeared when the goblins and the
other dark creatures disappeared. I couldn't understand why the camp needed
guards."
For the first
time, Holli spoke with a passion as she quickly came to defense of her accepted
role. "There are many reasons for guards. We can warn of wild animals,
secretly turn away curious humans and delvers without them knowing we are even
there, and also fight off an angry tribe of dwarves out looking for
trouble."
"You can
turn away a delver?" Ryson responded with disbelief.
Holli answered as
if reading from an elf guard's manual. "A delver will often follow that
which most calls to his curiosity. If a delver is moving toward an elf camp,
the delver can be led away by creating diversions, or offering a mysterious
sound or smell in an opposite direction."
Ryson nodded. He
could not argue the point but he did make a mental note. "I'll have to
remember that. Anyway, what happened with the raid?"
Holli's voice
repossessed its heaviness. "Two of an opposing camp's party came from
below me using the thick branches as cover. I was lucky to escape their
capture. I fled back to the inner camp and warned my superiors of the raiders.
It was my greatest failure."
"If you
weren't captured, and you warned your camp, how can you consider that a
failure?"
"A guard’s
responsibility is to find the raiders before they find you. I was located and
ambushed. I was forced from my position without discovering the party's size.
It was not what I was trained for."
"I
see." Ryson saw the signs of discouragement on Holli's face. He felt the
need to console her. "But that sounds like a long time ago. You must have
done much to make up for that mistake."
"Perhaps."
Ryson did not
allow the near defeated response to stand. "No, not
perhaps. You must have. I consider that a fact and let me tell you why.
This is no small affair we're on now. Mappel must trust you greatly. He knows
what this is all about. Ever since I met you elves, all I've heard is how
things will never be the same and how crucial this whole affair is. Do you
think he would send just anybody in the desert with me? Besides that, he's letting you carry that
sword. You must know what kind of honor that is."
"It is
indeed an honor, but also a great responsibility."
"Oh, I'm
sure it is."
Ryson smiled as
he noted the disappointment fading from his companion's expression. He let
silence overcome them, hoping the encouragement would drive any further
misgivings away from his escort. As they moved, now in quiet, he took an
opportunity to check things out for himself. Not only did he look off into the
distance, he sniffed the air and listened to the wind. He considered those
things Mappel told him of the algors and what he might sense in order to find
them. Unfortunately, at this moment, he remained unsure of where to travel when
they reached the sand.
Thinking of the
sand, it was at that moment that Ryson closely examined the ground. Something
troubled him. He watched as he stepped down into the mix of sand and rock. He
could not pinpoint his alarm, but he did not like how the ground reacted to his
step. He was about to say something to Holli, but suddenly, she dropped nearly
out of sight.
The elf guard
made no sound as her step took her through a camouflaged hole in the ground.
When her foot penetrated the veil of sand and rock, her momentum carried her
downward through a sizeable gap which measured two arm-lengths across. She
showed no sign of panic. She remained in control and used her forward momentum
to propel herself to the far side of the opening. Her right hand found solid
ground, and she managed to stop her fall. By that time, her entire body, up to
her neck, remained submerged under the surface of the ground. Only her head and
her right arm remained within the delver's sight.
Ryson leapt over
the circular opening. He knelt in front of the elf and took hold of her hand.
He also reached into the opening and grabbed the back of her shoulder.
"Hold on,
I'll pull you out."
As he began to
lift her up, he heard a distinct clicking noise echo up through the hole. The
sound grew louder and quicker. The delver could not identify the noise, but he
knew whatever was causing it was moving towards them. He continued to pull
Holli free, but he leaned forward to look over her shoulder and into the hole.
His eyes quickly penetrated the darkness. He made out the trace outlines of a
far reaching tunnel. It was tubular in design, fairly tall and very wide.
His attention
seized upon the source of the noise within this underground cavern. It moved
towards them through the shadows. It skittered through the tunnel in awkward
sideways movements, its many legs tapping over the sides and bottom of the
tunnel. It crawled vigorously, its intent clear.
As the creature closed upon Holli's vulnerable body, it bounded
into the light that cascaded through the opening. Ryson felt nothing but
pure aversion to this thing. A grotesque mix of spider and crab, grown to
enormous proportions, it veered up with open claws. Bone-hard pinchers the size
of tree limbs and two eyes extending out of its face brought similarities to the
crab. The rest appeared like a giant spider with most of its round body covered
in thick black hair. Its six legs were jointed high in the middle, and they
propelled the creature directly towards Holli.
Ryson pulled with
all his might. He tried to free Holli from the hole before the creature could
get any closer. She was halfway into the open air when the first claw reached
up and took her by the waist.
Again Holli made
no sound. She attempted to twist free but could not break the grip. She turned
her head to look down at whatever held her. If it brought fear to her, she made
no sign of it. She quickly took her free left hand and brought it to her side.
The other claw grasped it just as quickly. She hovered halfway out of the hole
but fully in the grip of this monster.
Ryson continued
to pull at her but the claws fought back. The delver held on with all his
strength even as Holli sunk further out of his sight. His grip around her right
armed tightened, and he dug his knees into the soft sand. He braced himself
against the ground swearing not to give up.
"Let go of
my arm!" Holli commanded.
"What?!" Ryson exclaimed with ever-widening eyes.
"Let go of
my arm!" she shouted forcefully.
The strength of
her voice was so resolute, he almost obeyed without thinking. He did not,
however, release his hold.
"If I let
go, it'll take you in!" he managed to blurt out as he continued to
struggle against the force which opposed him.
"Do
it!" Her eyes blazed with such fury, her mouth formed a grimace out of
pain and anger. "Do it now!"
Ryson let go. He
watched in absolute shock as Holli was completely sucked into the hole. She was
gone.
He knelt stunned
for but a second. He darted his head back to the hole. They were not directly
below him as he hoped. The creature had backed away from the opening. It would
not allow its prey any chance of escape.
Ryson watched in
horror as the two claws remained firmly attached to Holli's waist and her left
arm. It pulled her closer to its open mouth which included two large, white
fangs. Ryson was about to leap into the hole in hopes of saving the elf when
Holli's quick movements held him in place.
The elf, even
while in the clutches of such a fiendish creature, found the strength to use
her right arm. Her hand flew to her waist in a blur. Her fingers gripped the
hilt of the powerful and magical sword which remained at her side. As the blade
flashed out of its sheath, it caught the drifting sunlight. The blade glowed
like fire and it lit up the entire tunnel for as far as Ryson could see.
The creature
reacted violently to the blast of light, seemingly more out of fear than pain.
It did not drop Holli from its claws, but it pushed her further away from its
face. The two eyes of the monster recoiled. As they did, Holli brought the
sword crashing down between them. The light from the sword flashed with even
greater brilliance. The blade burned as if immersed in flames, and it split the
creature nearly in two. The monster collapsed to the ground with a crunch as
dark liquid spilled from the huge gash.
Holli leapt clear
and back towards the hole. She watched the dead creature for long moments
before checking her own wounds. Her waist and arms were cut, but all wounds
appeared merely superficial.
Ryson gracefully
lowered himself into the tunnel beside the elf. He spoke with obvious concern.
"Are you
alright?"
"I'll
live," the elf responded with obvious disgust.
"How's your
waist?"
"Abrasions. Slightly bruised.
They should be cleaned, but perhaps we should not waste the water."
"Don't worry
about the water. I can always get us more, even in the desert. Just take care
of yourself."
"I should be
dead for such carelessness." Her voice was hollow, made even colder by the
echoes of the long reaching tunnel.
Ryson was taken
aback by Holli's abruptness. Her response was more confusing than the
appearance of this mutated creature.
"What are
you talking about?" he questioned.
"I'm talking
about what happened here. I stepped right into a trap. You talk of how Mappel
trusts me. Now you see how I repay that trust."
"Hey, ease
up. I barely noticed the hole and I'm a delver. I should have seen it long
before you fell in."
"I am an elf
guard. I can not afford to make such mistakes." Her voice was cold and
bitter.
Ryson shook his
head vehemently. "That's ridiculous."
"It is not
ridiculous. What if you had fallen? If I had lost you to this thing, how could
I have explained it to my captain, to Mappel?"
Ryson could not
accept the harsh self judgment. He pointed to the remains of the creature with
near ferocity. "Do you even know what that thing is?" he demanded.
"I've never seen anything like it. I doubt you have either."
"I do not
know what it is," Holli answered with a near lifeless tone.
His pressing eyes
bore down upon her. "Then how could you have been prepared for it?"
"I must be
prepared for everything," Holli responded quickly. "I was warned to
watch for the unknown, the unexpected. I did not fulfill my duty."
Ryson heaved a
heavy breath. He was determined not to allow the elf to hold on to such a
perception. "What is your duty?"
Holli answered
swiftly, and with more than a hint of self-disdain. "To
protect you, to see to the safe conclusion of your mission."
"Was I
hurt?" The delver's simple question echoed through the tunnel.
Holli remained
silent.
"Was I
hurt?" he asked again. His expression demanded she speak the obvious
answer.
"No,"
she allowed.
"Then you
have not failed in your duty. You were told to watch for the unexpected. That's
a very vague instruction. You dealt with this monster better than I could have.
And neither of us got hurt. I can't ask for more than that."
For a moment,
Holli appeared slightly relieved. Her sternness, however, returned quickly.
"Be that as it may, I can not allow such a thing to happen again. As you
have said before, yours is a mission of great importance. If we must face such
unexpected obstacles, then I must heighten my awareness."
She checked her
ire long enough to apologize for what she felt was previously inappropriate
behavior. It was the duty of an elf guard to remain watchful over those they
escorted. They would give orders when safety was at risk, take command when
danger presented itself, but they were to always remain in control. They were
also to give continuous respect.
"By the way,
forgive me for shouting orders at you, but I needed my right hand. I could not
free my left. I believed that the sword was my only hope."
Ryson waved aside
the apology. He took no offense at the time, and none
now. "I would have yelled, too. As for the sword, it looks like you
thought right." Ryson's gaze locked upon the shimmering blade of the
sword. Strangely, it did not hurt his eyes to stare directly into the glowing
metal that brought near daylight to this dark tunnel.
"That sword
seems pretty special," he remarked with obvious interest. "It even
gives off its own light."
"It is not a
source of light," Holli confessed, "it
simply magnifies the light around it. That is part of its enchantment. Do not
underestimate that power. It can catch the faintest gleam and offer enough
light for travel into the darkest of caves. For example, it can catch the light
which flows through the hole in this tunnel from a great distance. We could
walk far and deep. We could turn corners and descend steep banks. We could
reach a length where are own eyes would sense no light at all. The sword,
however, would still capture the light which flows from that opening. It is
only in an enclosed place where light is completely blocked will the sword fail
to offer illumination."
"I
see." Ryson took a moment to glance down the long tunnel. The light from
the sword lit the passage way with greater depth than the brightest of
lanterns. It allowed Ryson to inspect the walls and to follow the path. The
tunnel twisted and turned for a great distance before the path curved out of
sight. "I wonder how far this thing goes."
Holli showed no
interest in the tunnel. "It is of no concern to us."
She stepped back
to the opening and passed an expectant glance at the delver. She obviously
wished to exit the tunnel and continue with their original quest.
Ryson's curiosity
would not be so easily contained. He meandered within the walls of the tunnel,
taking deep longing stares down the enclosed corridor. He offered his own
opinion. "I don't know about that. We don't know what that creature was.
You said so yourself. Maybe this tunnel holds the answer."
Holli's response
was coldly logical. "The creature must be a result of the tainted magic
which now swells over the land. The sphere emits energies which can alter
creatures in unthinkable ways. It might have been nothing more than the egg of
an ordinary spider that somehow became mutated. It's a surprise we haven't come
across something like this sooner."
Ryson's growing
desire to explore the tunnel exuded from him like smoke from a fire. "But
look at how long this tunnel goes. Who knows what we might find."
"And you
wish to explore it?" Holli's expression was harsh.
"Of course. If the magic created this creature, it
might have created something else."
She frowned
dubiously. "Yes, something more terrible and more
deadly. I do not see the point in taking such a risk."
"We
shouldn't just leave without inspecting at least a little further," Ryson
requested. "We may never have an opportunity like this again."
Holli stared
sternly at the delver. "How will this help us in our quest to find the
algors?"
"I don't
know. I don't know what may be down there. That's why I think it wouldn't hurt
to check it out."
"This will
not help our cause," Holli spoke angrily.
Her tone finally
caught Ryson's attention. He stood confused over her adamant stance.
"What's
wrong?"
"You have
been given a task," she replied forcefully. "That task was to find
the algors, or have you forgotten? We must find them and explain to them of
what is happening. According to Mappel, even according to you, there are
important decisions to be made involving the sphere. We have not the time to
explore this irrelevant tunnel dug by some monster. We must return to this
objective."
"It won't
take long just to have a look around," Ryson persisted.
"It will not
help us." Her hardened stare did not ease. "I know what is causing
this. It is your natural instincts as a delver to explore that which is new to
you. I must ask you to contain these feelings until we have accomplished what
we have set out to do. Now, I can not find the algors on my own. That is your
responsibility. But I also know that I can't force you to do anything. I know
enough about you that if you wanted to leave me behind you could do so in an
instant. I can't capture you or even keep up with you. I can only ask you to
remember your pledge to Mappel, and to Shayed. Remember your responsibilities
as I remember mine. We need to find the algors."
Ryson grimaced at
acknowledging the truth. He knew his desire to explore the tunnel failed to
hold any true rewards other than satisfying his own curiosity. He cursed
lightly under his breath before accepting the only true course of action. He
looked to Holli requesting forgiveness with his eyes.
"Of course
you're right. This kind of thing just happens to me sometimes. It's hard for me
keep my attention focused with so much going on. I hope you can
understand."
"You do not have to explain further. Let
us forget this matter and exit this tunnel. I will need a moment to clean my
wounds. Then, we will return to what we must do."
Ryson and Holli
trekked without hesitation through the Lacobian desert. Holli, accustomed to
the thick brush of Dark Spruce Forest, cared little for the sand or the heat.
She would have welcomed the shady refuge of tall leafy trees, but only thin
cacti appeared along their travels. She longed for flowing streams or small
quiet ponds, but the desert offered only an empty ocean of sand. The sun poured
down upon her and the hot dry wind from the south bit at her skin. Her arms and
legs were accustomed to climbing and leaping, not struggling through these
Lacobian dunes.
Holli ignored these pains. She concentrated
upon the delver's back and upon the surrounding land. As the sun and sand
burned her eyes, she continued to scan the horizon as well as the very ground
they tread upon. As she watched the delver move so effortlessly across this
barren terrain, she remained always within arm’s reach, always ready to defend
him. She bit back any stray thought which begged her to give in to the desert
or to even request a moment's rest.
She called upon
her training to keep her from tiring and to keep her moving forward in these
conditions so hostile to her race. Whenever she felt her strength diminish, she
placed her hand upon the hilt of the Sword of Decree. Its presence at her side
reminded her of the faith Mappel had placed in her. She affirmed to herself
that she would not delay the search for the algors. She would not slow the
delver or force him to rest when he did not need it. She would continue far
after all her strength evaporated into the dry desert heat if need be. Her own
will and determination would carry her to the end of this quest.
So true was
Holli's spirit, that Ryson did not even recognize her struggle. He stopped only
when absolutely necessary. When he did, their pauses were brief. He also began
to use the desert more and more to his advantage. He declared they would save
all of their supplies and use only that which he could take from the land. He
used his knife to coax liquids from hidden roots and from the innards of the
surrounding cacti. After short breaks to complete such tasks, they were again
on their way.
As Ryson moved
through the desert, he opened his senses. He fought from focusing upon one
item. Instead, he exposed his senses to everything around him. His mind turned
back to the advice of Mappel.
Mappel had tried
to explain how the algors lived based on his knowledge of elflore. They did not
live in small camps like the elves, in towns like the humans, or in underground
cities like the dwarves. They lived together, yet apart. Thousands upon
thousands lived within the desert and considered themselves part of the greater
community, but that community spread itself thinly over the vast desert. They
dug dens in high sand dunes, they made homes in hollow cacti, they even found shelter in caves among the desert cliffs.
They preferred a life equally split between solitude and group activity. As
quickly as they would wander off into desolation, they would return to find
kinship with other members of their community.
While each held a
sense of strong loyalty to another, they fashioned their lifestyles upon
individualism. It was a difficult prospect for outsiders to accept, for the
algors appeared born with a natural sense of conformity; their desire to shed
this inherent attribute led them to near split personalities.
As for their
other habits, Mappel had described the algors as using every element of the
desert to their advantage. They would feed from a cactus at the top of the
stalk so as not to harm the roots or trunk. They would mold the very sand
around them to construct dunes that would protect them from the sun and the hot
dry winds. It was these things which Ryson focused upon as he traveled through
the desert.
The delver
constantly surveyed the land looking for such signs. He examined every cactus
hoping to find claw marks indicating a recent climb to the top. He watched the
breeze break across the desert trying to see signs of an unnatural barrier. He
also lifted his nose to the air hoping to catch a unique scent which might
indicate the presence of a creature he had never before met. He listened to the
wind. Perhaps he would hear the slight vibration of a distant call. He held
himself out for anything, anything at all. He would grasp upon the slightest
clue to lead them.
For the moment,
he found nothing. He followed only his instincts. He trotted forward making
turns based on nothing more than a whim. His direction held no true logic; he
simply plodded forward like a hungry beggar looking for a morsel of bread in a
land devoid of food. Yet, he held to the belief that at any moment he would
hone in upon the smell, the sound, or the sight of something that would lead
him to his ultimate destination.
The day trudged
on. The wind quickened and the sun baked the sand as it began to sink from its
position directly overhead. If night would bring them
cooler times, they would pay for it first with the billowing heat of the latter
half of day.
Still, they moved
forward blindly, aimlessly across the wasteland. Even the scorpions and desert
birds took refuge from the baking sun. The two appeared alone, searching for
something they could not identify. Only their footsteps in the sand and on rock
accompanied them now, and these trailed off behind them far out of sight, like
a long wandering tail. It reminded Holli of the loneliness of their journey
each time she turned to check their flanks.
When the elf did
turn, she could not avoid the scope of their travel. Nothing in the distance
behind them offered any sense of security. Any trace of the forest had long
since vanished. The desolation of what surrounded them was overpowering.
Hopelessness, loneliness, desperation; these were the emotions which attacked
her mind. She spit these crushing thoughts from her like a bad aftertaste.
There were more important things for her to focus on now.
As the sun
lowered, the heat became thicker, stronger. It pressed upon her like some
unseen hand trying to force her to her knees. Maintaining the pace the delver
set became more and more difficult. Purely and simply, the elf was asking her
body to maintain a cross country run through the desert. While her physical
condition allowed for great stress, there remained limits. She was now
exceeding those limits, and she faced yet one more battle to fight, the
struggle of mind over body. She would have to convince her own tiring, aching
muscles that they could indeed continue.
It became a
personal war with the desert itself. She turned the wasteland into a powerful
foe that mocked her. As she continued to scan the horizon, she looked over the
dunes with growing animosity. The sand, the sun, and the wind were now all
enemies that wished to stop her. It was up to her own
perseverance to win this battle, and she remained determined against any
failing. She began to care almost singularly about this one point. The desert
would not defeat her.
Ryson did not
face the same difficulties. His body apparently adapted to all environments.
Like the chameleon, his very body chemistry altered to match his surroundings.
The heat barely affected him. Running across this empty land offered no true
challenge to his skills. The true challenge rested in the search itself, in
finding the algors, a search he continued without frustration. Even as he moved
without true direction, he maintained a vigorously determined outlook upon his
intentions. The day was passing without a single hint of the mythical algors,
yet he remained open-minded to their existence. More, he now accepted their
existence as fact. The question to him was no longer if they were actually in
the desert. It was more if he could find them. With such a challenge, his
delver blood flowed true, and he began to move with methodical precision.
More and more, he
pulled the spyscope from the pouch at his belt. He scanned far across the
desert, inspecting the terrain with more and more concentration. Perhaps, it
was the purifying power of the desert which began to clear his mind of his own
unconscious barriers, the long travel over rock and sand with a dry wind
cleansing him of self-doubts. It brought an edge to his senses and brought out
the most receptive instincts inherent to a purebred delver. He began to sense
things about the desert that he did not even notice when their journey began.
Each time he brought the scope to an eye, he nodded in approval. He even began
to smile with great satisfaction.
As this behavior
increased, Holli wondered if the desert was taking the mind of the delver. She
knew of how such conditions could drive anyone to madness. She worried if the
madness now controlled her companion. She finally decided to break her silence
even if it meant momentarily delaying their search.
"Delver,"
she called to him over his shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Ryson twirled
about with great energy. He smiled happily. "I'm fine, Holli." He
said nothing more. He watched her expectantly, obviously hoping she would
continue to question him.
"What is
it?" Her tone indicated she was tired and expected an immediate explanation.
"They are
here," he said plainly, but with an even bigger smile.
"You are
sure?" The elf took her attention from the delver. Her body became tense
and ready. Her hand fell to the hilt of the sword as she scanned all
directions. The wear of the desert upon her body almost completely disappeared
as she considered facing possible danger.
"You can't
see them," Ryson offered. "I haven't seen them yet, but they have
been here. I'm on to them now. Actually, it's not so much as following a single
algor. It's more of finding signs of many of them. They do congregate, but they
spread themselves thin just the same. There are so many different and opposing
signs to look for. It's possible we've passed right by many of them for a long
time. I didn't know what to look for when we started, but I do now. I see how
they've forced changes on the desert that the wind couldn't have made. I see
how they've made markings which appear totally natural, but offer landmarks for
their own kind. Even now we're closing in upon an area which is well traveled
by many of them. There's no question about it. They exist, and they're
here."
Holli spoke with
relief, as if believing the long journey was finally coming to an end, her own
personal victory over the desert assured. "I take your word for it. What
do we do now?"
"We find
them." His smile did not vanish. It remained on his face as he pointed to
a ridge of a sandstone mountain off to the west. "That is where we have to
go."
It was with great
hope that Mappel and Lief had undertaken their journey to Connel. After Ryson
Acumen and his escort departed for the Lacobian desert, Mappel had advised the
rest of his camp of the situation they all faced. The discussion lasted much of
that night. The following morning, he sent messengers to the dwarf city of
Dunop with strict instructions. With all preparations complete, the elder elf
and Lief had set out for Connel.
Even at his age,
Mappel navigated the Dark Spruce Forest with casual ease. In but half a day
they drew near the limits of Pinesway. Upon entering the town, they covered
their ears with forester's caps. Their clothes were not that much different
from their human counterparts. Only the hats and cloaks worn on such a beautiful
day might have raised an eyebrow, but their arrival within the town's center
caused not the slightest stir.
They themselves
felt more uncomfortable than the humans that passed them in the streets.
Walking among the townspeople, across paved roads, and past tall buildings;
this was both a new and unnerving experience. Their ears were concealed, but
their self-consciousness could not be as easily tamed. More than once, they
gaped at the crowds gathered at a street market or at the lavish decorations of
the surrounding architecture. Viewing the humans from a distance could simply
not prepare them for the experience of walking among them. The two elves felt
as if they had slipped through space and time and into a new dimension.
Both Mappel and
Lief forced this unease away as they realized that interaction with the humans
was now inevitable. Without wasting much time, they secured faster
transportation to Connel. Upon rented horses, paid for with gold dust obtained
through trade from the dwarves, they reached their destination easily within
the same day.
It pained Mappel
to pass beyond the lands which led to Connel. Farmland had replaced wide areas
where Dark Spruce was once in full command with its many trees. He wondered how
many of them fell to the woodsman's axe to clear such long stretches of land. A
few trees remained as markers for farmers and travelers; lonely sentinels;
reminders of what once was.
Lief pointed out
the outline of buildings in the distance as they approached Connel, which in
truth was now more of a city. Activity bustled as they closed upon the growing
collection of structures on the horizon. It re-energized Mappel to see the
stone wall still intact, but the sprawling size of Connel, which now actually
spilled over sections of the wall, did little to ease his anxieties.
Much had changed
since the time of legends, since Shayed stood with the humans, algors, dwarves
and elves. This human town was filled with dwellings, shops, and inns; few of
which honored the past, thus it was easy to spot their ultimate destination,
Matthew's Church of Godson.
Upon entering the
church, they had announced themselves as messengers of Ryson Acumen with
important news. They were apparently not the first for other members of the
church paid little attention to their arrival. They were quickly escorted to
Reader Matthew's quarters in the back of the church.
Matthew met with
the two alone. It was clear he awaited news from the delver eagerly.
Mappel spoke
calmly and succinctly as Lief remained silent but vigilant at his elder's side.
The elder elf did not at the outset reveal his identity or his true purpose. He
recited the findings of Ryson Acumen as if giving a report. He waited to judge
the reader's reaction to the emergence of the sphere before announcing the true
purpose of his visit.
Reader Matthew
took the report with obvious agitation, but he showed no sign of true
disbelief. He made no scoffing remarks, nor did he fail to accept the enormity
of such news. He only demonstrated great concern. He was troubled and worried
and the report left him weary.
It was then that
both Mappel and Lief removed their hats and truly detailed the happenings that
caused their very arrival upon his doorstep. Their pointed ears became
unmistakable exclamations to a tale which was even now unfolding, a tale which
was not foretold and where the conclusion was far from certain.
Lief remained watchful and alert, but obviously uneasy at being
confined within the stone walls of the church as well as the bricked walls of
this smaller room. He moved about at small intervals to check each
corner as if concerned with every shadow. After each pass, he returned to
Mappel's side, and stood quietly.
The elder elf
rested his weight against his long wooden staff. The long travel tired him only
slightly. He showed less signs of agitation with being confined within the
small room than his counterpart. Other than taking a moment to feel the heavy
bricks of the wall and the oak panels which formed the door frame upon
entering, Mappel stood with his attention focused squarely upon the reader.
As he continued
to speak, he coughed momentarily, an expulsion of road dust. He accepted a cup
of wine produced from a cabinet behind the reader's desk. He sipped it gently
and allowed the weight of the goblet to rest against the side of his staff.
With their
identities revealed, Mappel included every detail from Lief's early warning to
his return with the delver. In his explanations, Mappel spoke of Ryson Acumen
with high regard. He reported the appearance of the spirit of Shayed and of her
message to Lief and Ryson. He told the reader of Ryson's wishes to explain all
the events which had unfolded.
It was thus that
the reader now faced the unveiled truth behind the earthquake which unsettled
him so many days ago.
"I do not
doubt your word, Mappel; it is just that you must understand none of us were
prepared for this." Reader Matthew tried to explain his position as his
own thoughts lay scrambled. "Please do not mistake my words. It is not
that I don't believe in what you say, or even in your very existence. It's part
of my faith to believe in what many call the legends, which includes elves.
I've believed all along that elves exist. I know that the sphere was buried
long ago, and the captured magic with it. That is all part of the Book of
Godson. That is the foundation of my religion. I accept it. But your presence
here, at this time, does come as yet another surprise,
and surprises are something I am not used to."
The reader paused
to regroup his thoughts. It was his great desire to make his position very
clear to the elder elf. "It's not that I thought the separation of elves
and humans would continue forever. That's not true at all. I believe it's
inevitable that the land will someday revert back to the time of legends, when
humans would again have to accept the existence of the other races. In truth,
that has been prophesied for us, and until now I have learned to trust, even
depend, on these prophesies. It is part of our faith, but the return of the
magic was not foretold. Nothing of our prophesies
spoke of the sphere returning as a threat. To be sure, there is always the
shadow of great powers and forces beyond our recognition, playing a role in our
future. I always assumed, however, that those forces would be beyond our reach.
Never have I read or heard of the sphere freeing itself from Sanctum. It is
this lone fact that causes me great concern and, yes, even great doubts."
"Do not
apologize for such concerns," Mappel replied, showing a deep understanding
and appreciation for the reader's plight. "I find no insult in your words
or your actions. In fact, I share them. Our own elflore also leaves us without
guidance during this trying time. It seems the prophets have left us to our own
designs in this matter."
"Your people
were also not prepared for this event?" The reader did not know whether to
feel relief or greater despair at this possibility. It was a comfort to see he
was not alone, but he wondered if this revelation truly held anything to be
thankful for.
"No,"
Mappel replied firmly, yet sadly. "The elves have had their share of
prophets. Elflore is as much a guide for the future as it is a map of the past,
but we enter this day without the grace of their foresight."
Reader Matthew
bent his head with a grunt of frustration. He eyed the aged, cloth-bound cover
of the Book of Godson which always remained upon his simple desk. His hand
brushed over the top of the worn cover, seemingly reaching for comfort and
wisdom. He found little. "I wish I could be of more help to you. Less than
a season ago, I would have believed this church and its followers were prepared
for everything, that we were blessed with knowledge of all things to come. How
naive. To think, we were so full of pride, even scorn for nonbelievers. We
secretly laughed at their ignorance. Now, I find we face true danger without
any such blessing. I wonder who is laughing now."
Matthew chuckled
sarcastically at himself. His eyes revealed the pain he felt in his soul. He
looked to the two elves that watched him with obvious interest. He felt no
embarrassment at his own remarks. He repeated his heartfelt apology. "I am
sorry I could not have been more help to you."
Mappel smiled and
exuded a warmth which indicated a personal
understanding to Matthew's plight. "Again, I will tell you not to
apologize. I comprehend your dissatisfaction, greater than you might realize.
You and I are looked upon as spiritual leaders. There are great expectations of
us, yet we are not prophets and we are not gods. We are both limited by the
failings which are inherent of all our people. We must, however, look beyond
that now. From what I have learned, we face a great struggle. We must set aside
our shortcomings, rise above them. The truth be told, I am very grateful to
have found you. You have been more open-minded to our cause then I might have
hoped. Certainly, you are more willing to listen to us than any other member of
this town, and we do need the help of the humans. We need the help of all the
races. The fact that I was directed to you, the reader in this church, I take
that as a sign of hope. I also find strength in the fact that Connel finds
itself at the center of our struggle. The simple arrival of a purebred delver
in our forest has brought us back to the ancient wall that allowed the races to
survive so long ago. It is this hope I now carry."
"Speaking of
Ryson, where is the good delver now?" Matthew asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Ryson
Acumen walks the Lacobian desert in search of the algors. As I have said, we
need the help of all the races."
Upon what the
reader had already seen and heard, the prospect of dealing with algors seemed
as ordinary as dealing with the merchant across the street. He thought more of
the sphere, the return of the magic, and the danger they all faced.
"Will the
algors assist in this matter?" the reader wondered aloud.
"I can only
hope they will," Mappel responded with simple confidence. "I believe
in such. According to elflore, I imagine they would find such a cause most
interesting. They might remain skeptical of our reasons, but certainly no more
dubious than the dwarves."
"The true
problem will be finding them," Lief noted.
"I would not
be too concerned of that," the reader came quickly to the defense of the
delver. "Ryson Acumen is full-bred delver. I don't know how long it will
take, but I know the power of these people. If it is there to be found, Ryson
will find it."
Lief cleared his throat. "I meant no disrespect to
Ryson Acumen. His assistance has already proven to be priceless. It is just
that the algor has not been seen by elf nor dwarf since the entombing of the
sphere. I can't help but wonder if they even still exist. The desert, after all
is a harsh place."
"Harsh to an
elf, but not to an algor," Mappel reminded his escort. "The algors
still exist. The reunion of all the races is spoken of in elflore. There is no
mention of the loss of a single race."
Matthew took a
moment to reflect upon Mappel's reasoning. Something within those words sparked
an idea, a hope of his own. He leapt upon it, grasped
it with obvious enthusiasm. "Is it possible ..., I can't believe I haven't
thought of that. If it's true, it could mean that it was foretold. A connection, but maybe out of place. Sequences are
important, but not always. It's possible."
Mappel watched
the reader carefully. He wished for an explanation. "You feel you have
discovered something?"
The elf's voice
startled Matthew, brought a realization he was jabbering as he attempted to
organize his thoughts. He brought his hand away from his face to turn a
questioning glance to Mappel. "I don't know. Let me ask you this first.
Your elflore, does it explain the reunion of the races? I mean, you just said
that elflore refers to a reunion. Does it explain how that is to be
accomplished?"
"No, it does
not. It simply states that the age of separation shall end. It does not explain
how."
"That's what
brings a question to my mind," Matthew presented. "I've spent all
this time going over the prophesies to find something
to connect to this event and I've missed the most obvious. You state that
elflore speaks of a reunion. I have already indicated that the
prophesies within the Book of Godson refer to a time when the other
races would return to make their presence known. Don't you think that the
return of the sphere may be the very cause of this prophesy? We have been worried because this most
significant event has not been forecasted by our prophets. Maybe it has, just
not as clearly as we would have liked." The statement faded off as more of
a question of hope held out to the elder elf, and Matthew waited for a
response.
Mappel glided his
hand along his staff. This skin on his forehead crinkled into long deep lines
as he considered the thought. "Interesting.
Foretold, but not foretold. It is strange that neither prophesies mention how
the separation is to end."
Matthew's eyes
lit up with a spark of increasing hope. "But it was specified in both that
the races would be united. From what you have told me so far, such a reunion is
now necessary. In a way, this event has been foretold to us."
Mappel's assurance came more grudgingly. He
could not simply accept such a loose connection. "Who is to say? That
interpretation may very well be correct. The re-emergence of the sphere does
indeed force us into such a situation. But can we infer so much? While I do not
wish to dampen your hopes, I must point out other significant factors. It does
not explain as to why we were not warned of the sphere. It is clear to me that
such an event is of major importance. I merely need to point to the reappearance
of Shayed. We now face a battle where all life hangs in the balance. We must
enter Sanctum. Such an undertaking is without question the most significant
action that any people might employ during this time. There is more here than
the simple re-unification of the races. In its own way, Sanctum has been a
landmark to the era created when the magic was removed from the land.
Destroying the sphere will mean more than the re-unification of the races. It
signifies the very end of an accepted way of life. I can not believe that such
an event could have been overlooked by our prophets, or yours."
At first the
reader appeared to wish to debate the matter. He shook his head ever so
slightly as Mappel spoke. He did not, however, blurt out a response upon
Mappel's conclusion. He rose from his chair behind his desk and began to pace
the room with his hands behind his back. The heels of his shoes clicked
hollowly against the stone floor until they hit the mat which covered the
center. The soft woolen floor covering silenced his steps until he reached the
far end of the room. Crossing beyond the border of the mat and on to the stone,
again his shoes snapped out a light crack.
"I must
agree," Matthew finally answered with a defeated groan. "The return
of the magic is mind boggling in its scope. Much smaller events have been
prophesied and interpreted for us. It is mystifying as to why this event was
not foretold." He turned and faced the elder elf. "Forgive me if I
appeared reluctant to accept your words at first. It's just that I had hoped
for a moment that I might still rely upon the prophecies in this matter. I so
want to believe that the plan of Godson as told to us will unfold without
intervention. I wish to remain as faithful to this as possible, but I cannot
overlook the obvious. The sphere appears beyond that plan."
"Your
reactions are not foreign to me. I expect I am doing much of the same,"
Mappel admitted. "I keep reaffirming that there are other powers at work
here, coming to our aid. I have made such a claim when Lief came upon Ryson
Acumen and again when I found you here in Connel. It lessens my own concerns to
hope that we are not left alone to face such a dreadful task, but I must face
the cold facts. Elflore is lacking in guidance. We face this matter with but
our own wisdom. Perhaps it is but a test to prove whether we are worthy for
what might come in the future. Perhaps the same is true for your people as
well. If you are to see the plan of Godson unfold, then you must deal with this
particular danger with your own spirit and power."
Lief Woodson
began to speak, but his voice cracked. He cleared his throat quickly. His
expression made it clear he felt uncomfortable speaking of such weighty
matters. It was not his place. Yet, he could not resist speaking of his moment
in the presence of Shayed. "I claim no vast knowledge of elflore or of
Godson. I know only of what I have seen these past days. As I have told Mappel,
the great Shayed spoke of the threat we face. She also spoke of the prophets.
The power of the sphere seems beyond them. I don't believe you will find the
matter addressed in either the book of Godson or elflore. According to her,
what we face now, we face on our own. If any of us wish to save the land, we
must destroy the sphere by our own doing."
Mappel placed a
hand on Lief's shoulder. "My good elf. You speak
with passion, but we must always hope that we are not alone. I agree that we
will do what we must do, but we must never forget our beliefs, our hopes, our faith. I will not dispute what Shayed has spoken to you,
but what of the powers that sent her back to us? Yes, she said the sphere
resists the foreshadowing of the prophets, but it has not resisted the greater
powers which I believe exist in this land. Say what you will, but I believe we
will not be alone when we enter Sanctum."
Silence filled
the chamber. Lief shifted his gaze uncomfortably to the
floor. He stood motionless.
The reader felt
reassured by Mappel's words. He might not have found the script in the book of
Godson to ease his insecurities, but the presence and the words of the elder
elf brought his own faith welling up within him. He honestly believed that with
such faith, even conquering Sanctum was not beyond his reach.
"Speaking of
entering Sanctum," the reader questioned with renewed vigor, "have
you any plan for this undertaking? Obviously it must be done, that is why you
are here. You have made it clear that the spirit of Shayed requests that the
sphere be destroyed. You yourself say that the magic still contains the taint
of poison for the elves and that it will soon affect us all. If you plan to
destroy the sphere, which seems apparent, you will face many obstacles. First,
you must enter Sanctum. Our own book of Godson speaks of Sanctum and the five
tiers. The tiers were constructed to prevent exactly what you hope to
accomplish."
Mappel returned
his empty wine goblet to the desk of the reader. He grasped his staff with
greater resilience as he professed his intentions. "At the moment, I have
no intricate plan, no detailed design for what we face. I simply look to the
ultimate objective. The first order of business is to realign the races, make
everyone understand what we face. It is thus I have sent messengers to the
dwarves and algors. With my apologies, I admit that I have requested that the
representatives meet here, in this very church. I know I should have consulted
you, but time has become a factor. From Ryson Acumen's testimony, I believed
you would be the most helpful to our cause. With members of each race in
attendance, I will explain everything I know. I will hope that each race will
understand the dire consequences. I will pray that the secrets of Sanctum are
revealed so that together we can devise a scheme to overcome these obstacles.
"However, I
am not so blind that I don't foresee great difficulties. The mistrust between
all the races has had centuries to grow and fester. The dwarves themselves will
be reserved against revealing their own secrets of Sanctum. It may well be that
each race will refuse to unlock the secret of their tier. In such a case, I
will be faced with dark prospects, but they will not stop me. I have no choice.
The sphere must be destroyed. All elves will eventually see that one pure fact.
Every camp, even enemies, will join to fulfill the request of Shayed. I will
send an army of elves to their deaths if need be and send another army after
that. Our people will die anyway, an attack on Sanctum
will at least give us a chance.
"I will make
demands of all the races, as well. I will request that the dwarves push
themselves beyond the point of
exhaustion to tear Sanctum apart stone by stone if that is the only way to get
to its heart. I will demand the industry and the great multitudes of the humans
be used to accomplish our task. I will send delver after delver into Sanctum to
scout the dangers until I can find no more. Whether any race agrees to help is
beyond my power, but it will not stop me from making each demand.
"I realize
that many lives will be lost if this is how we must enter the mountain and this
will be my plan of last resort. First, I will attempt to break the mistrust
between the races. I hope that I will convince each to reveal the secrets of
the tiers before any die needlessly within Sanctum. If we all reveal our
secrets, we may yet determine a way to move unimpeded to the sphere."
Matthew's hope
faded ever so slightly. He sat back down in his wooden chair behind his desk.
He considered Mappel's words and again his hand found the cover of the book
before him. He peered down upon the collection of words which represented his
faith. A sorrowful expression shadowed his face. "That is a mighty
request. I will be honest with you. Even if I knew the secrets of Sanctum, I
don't know if I would simply give them to you now."
The reader
reflected upon his own answer before continuing. "Call it a lack of trust
if you will, and in all honesty it does shame me, but I just don't know if I
could reveal such a secret. Oh, I understand the need for trust at this time. I
clearly see that if we must destroy the sphere, such information is vital. But
would I have the right to simply divulge such information on such short notice,
with such little information? Here in the face of all of this, I don't know if
I could simply reveal a secret of such magnitude without greater assurances. I
imagine having knowledge of Sanctum carries with it great responsibility. Were
it my responsibility, I might remain honor bound to maintain secrecy until I
was absolutely certain there was no other choice."
Mappel shifted
his weight as he changed the angle in which he held his staff. "I
understand all too well what you speak of, for I have that responsibility. I
can only tell you that I would be willing to reveal what I know to increase our
chances of success."
"But will
others be so willing?" Matthew persisted voicing his doubts. "The
five tiers were constructed so that no one might enter to regain the power of
the sphere. What you will ask of all the races is in direct opposition of
this." Matthew looked up at the elder elf and began to speak quickly.
"Please understand, although I know I'm not explaining myself well. It's
just that you present more than a request. The tiers represent a sense of
safety for all the races that understand the legends. It is so that no power
might use the sphere. I realize the sphere now becomes a danger and the tiers
are now an obstacle in ending that danger. It is difficult, though, to simply
free myself of the covenant of the tiers. If such skepticism rests within me,
how will you convince all the races?"
Mappel addressed
the question with understanding, but with no less resolve. "I am already
aware of such difficulties, but there is no other way. It will be my task to
make all understand that there is no other choice."
Matthew exhaled
deeply. He crossed his hands atop his desk over his book. "I am glad I
won't have to make that decision. In all honesty, I do not know what the humans
placed in their tier, but I know who might.”
At this, Mappel’s
eyes widened with interest as well as hope. “There is a human in your church
that might have this information?”
“He’s not a
simple member of just this church. He is a blessing to all of those that follow
the word of Godson. I will do my best to get word to him. Until then, I can
only suggest we focus upon other problems."
Lief found it
refreshing to face something other than the sphere, elflore and the book of
Godson. He gladly seized upon the opportunity to deal with other matters.
"What problems may that be?"
Matthew spoke
with a heaviness that revealed a deeper shame, a shame of how his own kind
might react to the sudden presence of such beings as elves, dwarves, and
algors. "If you plan to bring representatives of other races to Connel,
you will have to give previous warning to the residents of this town. We may be
able to hide their presence for a while, but as more come, it will be difficult
to keep such a thing a secret. Such a thing might cause a panic. If we do not
address this now, we might face a greater problem when we need it least."
"What is it
you recommend?" Mappel questioned, regarding such matters with serious
conviction.
"I am not
good at this, dealing with such problems." Matthew conceded. "The
followers of this church are viewed as outsiders. I doubt our warnings would be
taken with any regard. I would suggest we meet with the town council. But it is
late and the sun is almost down. It's going to be hard enough to see the
council as it is. It would be near impossible to see them this very evening. It
would be better for us to make the attempt tomorrow morning. I suggest we break
for a meal. Then, perhaps we can talk further. I know I have a lot of questions
for you. I suppose you have the same for me. I would hope that you would stay
here tonight and we can discuss all of these things, then we can see the
council at daybreak."
Mappel nodded in
agreement. "We are honored to stay within a Church of Godson. I must admit
it will be strange for us to sleep within the confines of any building, but I
would also admit that if I had to choose such a place, it would be here. There
is much to discuss, and even more to plan. As events unfold, it becomes more
and more evident to me that the barriers between humans and elves must fade. We
have a long road to travel. It is best we travel it together."
The fog drew
close upon Matthew as he guided the two elves through the streets of Connel.
The previous evening was a cool one, allowing for warm fires within hearths as
well as vast quantities of dew, even in the dusty streets. As the sun broke the
eastern horizon, the warm rays excited the layers of moisture into a jubilant
mist.
Such was not
uncommon for the growing season. It would take the passing of many more days
before the ground absorbed enough heat to refuse the wetness of night, before
the onset of the dry season when long hot days began at first light.
Matthew silently
thanked Godson for the fog, a blanket of security and secrecy from prying eyes.
If he had to walk the streets with strangers, far stranger than any might
believe if they could see the ears which were hidden behind the forester caps,
it was best to do it behind a veil of mist. It would not take long for the
rising sun to burn off the last remnants of the fog, but it lasted long enough
to see the two cloaked figures follow Matthew through the doors of the town
hall.
Surprisingly,
they were guided directly into the mayor's office within moments of their
arrival. Matthew did little more than announce their presence and an urgency to
speak with the town council. The receptionist greeted the request with
unfettered nervousness, rather than the cold dismissal Matthew expected. As the
two elves and the reader were left with the mayor, the door thumped shut with
the heaviness of a vault.
Matthew, Mappel,
and Lief found themselves in a dimly lit office with the blinds shut. The
cobblestone fireplace remained cold and dark. The growing warmth of this
morning required no fire, but the sterile cold and dimness of this office
begged for the bright flames.
Mappel pulled his
cloak tighter around his shoulders to shield him from the strange chill. He
allowed himself a moment to inspect his surroundings. The room was much bigger
than Matthew's chamber at the church and included many more lavish decorations,
but Mappel found this room uninviting. As he turned his head about, he noted
the dark paneled walls that appeared newly cleaned. The thick rug also appeared
fresh, and clear of dirt. The air smelled of disinfectant, and the windows
remained closed. The office was almost completely devoid of life and nature. It
certainly held no inviting hand to an elf, and for perhaps the first time in
his life, Mappel felt his age.
Lief also found
no comfort within these walls. The large volumes of books upon the shelves did
not impress him. Neither did the paintings hanging upon the walls. Again, he
felt trapped and contained, but even more so with so many distractions placed
around the room. He longed for the green of the forest which was notably absent
in this seemingly lifeless environment.
Matthew stepped
forward ahead of the elves. He faced the large mahogany desk which stood
majestically in front of them. The desk top, outlined with gold edging,
contained piles of miscellaneous papers. It also contained the name plate of
the current mayor, Edward Consprite.
Consprite sat in
a full thick leather chair behind his desk. The chair was turned to face the
back wall and the three guests could only see the top of his balding head
barely peeking over the hilt of the chair.
Matthew went to
clear his throat to gain the mayor's attention.
Before he could
make a sound, Consprite swerved his chair about and faced his visitors for the
first time. His expression revealed his total lack of joy for their presence.
His eyebrows raged downward in the middle, creating a crease just above the
bridge of his nose which rose upward to his forehead. His jaw remained tight as
he placed his hands down flat upon the desk top. He examined his visitors with
notable disdain.
After his eyes
whisked quickly over the two cloaked companions, Consprite's stare fixed coldly
upon Reader Matthew. He frowned, almost angrily. His teeth barely broke their
clench when he finally spoke.
"Why are you
here?" he asked bluntly and coldly.
Matthew was taken
aback by the surly approach. Members of his church were used to poor attitudes
of other townspeople, but never such outward hostility. They were normally
laughed or scoffed at, usually ignored, but hardly ever challenged with great
antagonism.
The reader
gathered himself and tried to ease into a conversation. "Thank you for
seeing us. I have to admit I was surprised you would see us so quickly. Usually
the council is rather reluctant to meet with members of my church."
The mayor would
not let him continue. He spoke with demanding impatience as well as anger.
"What do you want?" It was much more of an order than a politely, or
even tactfully placed question.
Consprite's anger
again caught Matthew off guard. He stood silenced for long moments. Lief and
Mappel remained behind him, their gazes shifting back and forth from the mayor
to the reader.
Matthew finally
contained his surprise and stiffened himself with new resolve. His thoughts
garnered an image of Godson. With a new focus, he met the mayor's angry glare
with simple inner strength.
"I wish to
speak to the council on matters of great importance." His voice reflected
little defiance and no arrogance. "Do not misjudge my intentions. I am not
here simply on behalf of my church. I am not going to make any demands of
funds. I am here to inform you. What I will tell you, you will need to know. If
you do not hear me out, you will not be happy with what you might face in the
future."
The mayor's eyes
remained fixed upon the reader. His expression changed ever so slightly. It
continued to contain outward hostility, but even Matthew sensed a note of
concern behind Consprite's flashing eyes.
"What is it
you have to say?"
"I would
rather speak to the entire council. This is a matter which will affect everyone
in this town, everyone in the land."
Consprite
appeared quite unfazed by this remark. He made no scoffing gesture and spoke
not a single word of rebuttal. If anything, the hint of concern grew ever so
slightly.
This reaction
wasn't lost upon the reader. He expected to face more than doubt from the
council; he expected to face downright disbelief and ridicule. After all, he
was merely the reader for the Church of Godson, an unenviable position in a
place filled with nonbelievers. Surely, he would have great difficulty in
convincing the council of any of his story. This was why he brought the elves
with him. Without them, he honestly believed his tale would not gain a single
shred of respect from the council, especially from the mayor. He could only
hope that the presence of the elves might sway them into accepting at least a
portion of his story.
Now, however, he
looked into a face that showed a great sign of concern; not at all what he had
expected. The mayor was absorbed with some great anxiety, and Matthew's
appearance in his office did little to ease his tensions.
"The council
can not convene today," Consprite again spoke bluntly. "You will have
to speak to me and me alone."
Matthew did not
let a second wave of surprise break him from his intentions. He wavered only
for a moment, searching for the right words to convey the true importance of
what he had to say, and then offered his own response. "I do not think
that is a wise idea. I can only say that my message is of great importance. It
would be better if the council heard it together."
The mayor slapped
his hands angrily against the top of the desk. His palms hit with such force
that papers lifted up in the air before wafting back down slowly to their
previous, albeit more confused, positions. All three visitors jumped slightly
at the violent sound which cracked through the room. Consprite gave them little
regard as he clenched his open hands into fists. He then brought them to his
sides as he folded his arms across his chest.
"Look
reader," Consprite spoke with a low snarl, a growl like a trapped,
frustrated badger. "I don't think you understand! I said the council can
not convene today. Now you will give me your message now or I will have you
locked up for creating a public disturbance."
"I have
created no disturbance!" Matthew blurted out with astonishment. He never
anticipated such a response from anyone on the council, and he had not even
revealed the outlandish tale he was now forced to tell.
Consprite leaned
ever so slightly forward in his chair, as if to emphasize his conviction.
"You just spoke of a message which will affect everyone in this town as
well as everyone in the land. Those were your words. Do you deny them?"
"No, but
..."
"But nothing. Those are the words of a rabble-rouser.
They create panic and mob rule. Now you will get on with what you have to say
or I will have you locked up, and you will never see the light of day
again."
Matthew felt his
knees grow weak. "You can't do that, you have no right."
"I have every
right! I'm about to issue an order imposing martial law! That gives me the
right!"
Consprite caught
himself before continuing. He cursed under his breath. He face was now crimson
and his anxiety was as obvious as ever. He uncrossed his arms and rubbed his
temples with his fingers.
Matthew stared
disbelievingly at the mayor. "Martial law?"
The mayor did not
respond other than cursing under his breath once more.
"You can't
do that," the reader repeated himself.
The mayor stood
up angrily, grabbed a paper from his desk and shook it at the reader.
"Yes, I can. And here's the order that proves it. If this doesn't convince
you of how serious I am, I don't know what will."
Before Matthew
could say another word, Mappel stepped forward to the edge of the mayor's desk.
"This has
gone on long enough," the elf spoke with conviction before pulling the
hood of his cloak away from his head and removing the forester's cap. His
pointed ears stood revealed for all to see. "I am an elf, and as I believe
every one in this room already knows, the end of an age is here."
"Mother of bastards!" Consprite exclaimed, yet he
revealed more despair than disbelief. He did not question what he saw; he did
not stare with gaping silence. Instead, he dropped himself back into his chair
as if capitulating. His large bottom hit the seat with a resounding thump. He
placed his left hand over his eyes as if trying to block out a nightmare.
Matthew looked
back and forth from the elder elf to the mayor. He could not fathom Consprite's
reaction. "You're not shocked?"
"Nothing can
shock me anymore," Consprite moaned.
"What are
you talking about?" Matthew beseeched. Nothing had gone even close to his
expectations. The reader imagined difficulty in gaining an audience with any of
the council, he anticipated outright dismissal of his story, and he expected
downright astonishment at the revelation of elves in their midst. The actual
turn of events was beyond his imagination. He stared dumbly at the mayor,
waiting and hoping for a shred of reason.
Consprite offered
nothing. He grunted, he cursed, but he remained in his chair with his hand over
his face.
Mappel stepped
forward ahead of the reader. He raised a hand from his staff requesting Matthew
refrain from further questions. He spoke with an explanation he garnered from
his own observations of the mayor. "It is the inevitable, I fear. I expect
this man has already seen and heard of things far more surprising than the
presence of elves. He is the leader of this camp of humans as I am the leader
of my camp of elves. Just as I received reports as to the occurrences after the
quake, I expect he has received the same. The magic has returned, and no camp
or town is safe from the effects. It is not so surprising that this man already
knows of the changes taking place."
"At first I
didn't believe what I was hearing," Consprite mumbled. He dropped his hand
to his lap, stared at it rather than return Mappel's knowing gaze. "I
thought the reports were made by crackpots out in the wilderness too long.
That's where they came from at first. Stories from strangers
coming in from the hills and the mountains up north. Then more stories
came in from the outlying farms. I had to send people out to investigate. I
lost two men to some kind of monster they couldn't even describe. It surprised
them at the river and ripped them apart with claws and teeth."
"It was a
river rogue," Lief spoke for the first time since entering the office.
"They move as quickly on land as in the water. They have attacked my
people as well."
Consprite glanced
up with a look of desperation. "River rogue, huh? It's good to know the
names of creatures which shouldn't exist." He placed an inquisitive eye
upon Lief. "I guess you're an elf, too?"
Lief pulled off his cap in acknowledgment.
"That's just
great." Consprite shook his head. "River rogues, elves. What do you
call the short, swollen-headed things that walk around the forests with
crossbows?"
"They are goblins," Mappel answered
softly.
"Well, I
haven't seen one of those yet but the mayor from Burbon sent me a message this
morning. They've attacked Burbon twice in as many days." He shook his head
as if to expel the images of things he could not comprehend. Upon recalling a
sight he could bring to mind, his voice rattled with anguish. "I'll tell
you what I did see with my own eyes, a corpse, a
moving corpse. It killed a farmer and two of his boys before my men trapped it
in a barn. I tell you that thing should not have been walking around. It was
half rotted. I could see bone, yet it kept banging at the doors to get
out."
"Another of
the undead," Lief muttered as he shook his head sadly.
Consprite boiled
over with anger and frustration. He shot a wild stare at Lief. His eyes
remained wide and bloodshot. "What do you mean another? I had the one in
the barn destroyed! It took five men with axes to do it. They chopped it to
pieces before it finally stopped moving! We burned what was left. Then burned everything that touched it. Blazes, I had my own
clothes burned. Now you tell me there are more of these things. How many more?"
"No one can
tell," Lief answered simply.
"But you're
sure there's more, aren't you?!" The mayor's nostrils flared as his eyes
made wild accusations toward the elf.
"No one can
be sure of anything during these times," Mappel counseled coolly.
"Our own people are at a loss to understand everything which has happened
or might happen."
"Loss? Loss?!" a crazed expression rippled across
the cheeks of the mayor. He glowered at the three men that stood before him.
"Everything is out of control here and you stand there telling me you're
at a loss to understand what's happening? There's no way to understand it! The
dead are walking around killing people! There are monsters doing the same near
the rivers! And that's only the half of it. All these reports
on my desk ... unheard of things. I thought the town was going nuts.
Maybe it is. Maybe we all are. One woman said her son was able to levitate. I
laughed until I went over to see her. The kid was floating around in the
air! She thinks her son is possessed by
demons. I didn't want to believe any of this, but I can't shut my eyes to
it!"
Mappel stood firm
with his weight pressed against his staff. He listened carefully to the words
and the tone of the mayor. He watched even closer. Even as he stood within a
whirlwind of an emotional tirade, he found it near impossible to develop a true
assessment of this man.
The elder elf
could read nothing beyond the mayor's immediate concerns. His worthiness as a
person, his tendencies toward righteousness or malevolence, remained well
disguised by a veneer of self-importance. The arrogance of the man drew clear
by the objects in which he surrounded himself. The desire for control became
evident by his outbursts. Unfortunately, neither characteristic assisted Mappel
in making a moral judgment. Such characteristics are present in almost every
leader of every race.
"What you
face, we all now face," Mappel spoke in earnest. "The humans are not
alone in this plight. Every creature that lives in the land faces the same
danger. It is not madness that overtakes you or your people. It is a challenge
to all, to human, to elf, to dwarf, to algor, to even the great cliff
behemoth."
The mayor nearly
laughed with exhaustion. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? That's just great. I can go out and tell my
people that everything is fine because we're not alone. The elves and dwarves
are facing the same problems."
"I don't
think that is what he meant," Matthew offered.
"I know what
he meant!" Consprite shouted. His expression turned cold as the crimson
hue ran from his face like water from a tap. His fists tightened to stop their
trembling and he took hold of the situation with all the resolve left within
him. He would no longer allow anyone but himself to dictate the subject of this
meeting. He narrowed upon their presence in his office and his focus turned
upon their reasons. "Now listen to what I have to say and know that I mean
it. I want to know why you're here. As far as I'm concerned you may be
responsible for all that's going on. You came here with something to say, and
you'll say it to me now. If you don't, I'll lock you up and you'll never see
the light of day again. I don't know your two friends here, but I know you and
your place in this community. No one, other than your own followers, is going
to even notice if you drop off the face of the land. As for these two
elves," he said the word with near disdain, as if it were a foreign virus
that had no business in the land of Uton. "I doubt if anyone around here
will miss them if they disappeared. People around here don't believe in elves
and dwarves."
At that threat, Lief moved forward with an agile step. His hand disappeared
beneath his cloak where it found the hilt of his two edged sword. He side
stepped Mappel with casual grace, the folds of his cloak barely rustling. He
bore down upon the mayor with a fiery anger of his own.
The elf's
intentions were not lost upon the mayor, and Consprite's cold calculating
confidence took flight as his pallor turned gray. He sank back deep in his
chair, searching for protection and a retreat. His feet dug into the floor as
he propelled the chair back away from the oncoming elf. Beads of sweat rolled
down his temples. The only noise which erupted from his mouth was a low groan.
Matthew called
out for Lief to contain his actions, but it was Mappel who stopped him. He
merely lifted an arm from his staff and swung it out like a gate which crossed
Lief's path. By itself, the thin aged arm could not have held back the younger,
more powerful elf. Lief would have plowed through that arm as if it were a thin
rotted pine branch, if it belonged to anyone else.
It belonged to
Mappel, however, and Lief submitted to its authority.
The angered elf left his sword sheathed under his cloak. He even stepped back
away from the mayor in acceptance of Mappel's silent request.
The mayor coughed in uneasy relief, but maintained a watchful eye on the younger elf. He pulled his chair back to his desk before wiping his head with a clammy