Delver Magic

Book II

Throne of Vengeance

Jeff Inlo

120110713

I have tried to make this eBook available in as many formats as possible. If you encounter any difficulty with the formatting, please let me 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

Spiritual Thriller:

Soul View

Soul Chase

When Do I See God? by Jeff Ianniello

Science Fiction:

Alien Cradle

Humor:

Counterproductive Man

For everyone that believes in Magic,

and for Joan, because you believed in me!

I wish to thank Christine Bell for continuing to review my work in the Delver Magic series. Her generous contributions serve as an inspiration and confirmation that goodwill and thoughtfulness are not as rare as I might otherwise believe. Once more, I would also like to thank you for continuing to read the Delver Magic series.

Chapter 1

King Bol Folarok rigidly kept his back to his son. He stared vacantly at the stone wall before him.

"I am leaving Dunop," he said. The tone rang hollow, his emotions encased in a vacuum. He spoke as if it were some well-rehearsed line he had already repeated a thousand times. The announcement, though cold, remained firm, and it indicated more than just a temporary absence. The finality of the statement slowly took substance, and it lingered in the dimly lit chamber.

The words fell upon Prince Jon Folarok's senses like a lead weight. He looked upon Bol's back, impatiently waiting for further explanation. He was offered nothing. He stared breathlessly into the dark space between him and his father.

This was no time for the king to leave. What could be more pressing than the current and growing unrest? Bol was needed here, needed now. He couldn't leave. Jon wanted answers, but the back of his father wouldn't reply.

Face me!

But Bol would not turn. The dwarf prince squinted as if hoping to see clearly through a dense fog.

"Where are you going?" Jon stammered.

"Does it truly matter?"

The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

"When are you coming back?"

"I'm not coming back," King Bol replied with the same sterile tone as before. If he had sympathy for his son's confusion, he would not show it. His words remained as brittle as frozen twigs. "Not ever."

"What?" Jon felt his innards tighten, a familiar attack of anxiety. He was not a dwarf that dealt well with conflict or adversity. During the past few days, much of that was heaped upon him. Now, he faced a climax of catastrophe, and the accompanying nervous tension boiled over in his midsection. "What do you mean not ever?"

"I'm leaving Dunop and I will not be returning," Bol repeated, still not turning to face his only surviving son.

Jon dropped his head and stared at the floor. He could not look at his father's back for another moment as it only served to tighten the knot in his belly. The pain in his stomach was making it hard to think. His mind nearly went blank. He fought to seize upon something to say, words which might end this absurdity and set everything right. He could find nothing. He blurted out his confusion.

"I don't understand!"

"It is simple." Bol extended a hand to the wall in front of him. He patted the polished stone as if hoping to pull conviction from the intrinsic strength of the rock. "I can no longer stay in this place. It reminds me too much of ...." He held his tongue just before his voice cracked. He paused for long moments until his hollow tone returned. "I have made grave mistakes, mistakes I can not simply forget or erase. I can do nothing but leave."

Jon knew instantly what his father could not say, knew that the king was referring to the decision that had sent him and his older brother, Tun, to Sanctum Mountain. They were sent to assist the elves, to destroy Ingar's sphere which held all the magic in the land, but Tun was killed at the hands of a sand giant. That was the moment Jon first felt a hole open in his soul. An empty hollow pain was his from that day on. It now felt as if that hole was expanding.

To Jon, this was madness. He shook his head as if to scatter cobwebs from his face. "You just can't leave. You're the king here."

"Am I?" A note of sarcasm edged Bol's tone. This time, the king did not swallow his emotion. He let his bitterness spill out with his words. "Will the dwarves here even listen to me anymore? I doubt it. The separatists gain power every day. They grow in numbers even faster. They hate the monarchy and they want me out. They say I'm responsible for freeing the magic and putting them all at the mercy of the spell casters that are sure to follow. They say I have made dark alliances with the elves, and even the humans. They call me the king who murdered his own son."

"No ..." Jon cried out, but the anguish in his stomach tightened his lips.

Though Bol would still not face his son, he held up his arm to silence any further outburst. "That is what they say, and far too many believe. I can no longer be king, and I can no longer live with the memories of this place."

The past which Bol spoke of now exerted its force upon Jon. The memories came crashing down upon the prince. An image of Sanctum's outline pierced his mind. It once held the sphere, but now it served as a tomb for his dead brother. It seemed, however, that Sanctum's toll had not yet been fully collected, and it now threatened to take Bol from Jon as well.

In truth, this should not have surprised the prince. He should have almost expected it. He had witnessed his father's spirit sag since the day he had returned from Sanctum with bittersweet news. Yes, Ingar's sphere had been destroyed, but Tun had died in the effort. Jon could still remember how the very life began to drain from Bol's face when he reported the loss.

The entire town of Dunop wept for the death of its heir prince, but none endured as much torment as the royal family. Bol was inconsolable in his grief. From the moment Jon returned to the throne room alone, without his brother, Bol's collapse spiraled out of control. He walked alone through empty corridors of the palace, muttering to himself. He sought no one, and what remained of his family left him to grieve.

Jon wrapped himself in his own guilt. He struggled to return to his duties, to return to the work he loved in the tunnels. Yet each cave and each dark corridor reminded him of the bowels of Sanctum, the grave of his older brother.

Bol's wife, Queen Yave, proved even less supportive. She seemed consumed with an inextinguishable anger. She found it more fitting to blame her husband than console him. She was against assisting the elves at Sanctum from the start. To lose the son that was always willing to defend her, support her even against Bol himself, it moved her beyond grief. She burned with fury.

As Yave would make no attempt to comfort her husband, Bol slipped further into his downward spiral. With this came the end of his desire to lead. He allowed rumors to abound and did little to reaffirm his rule. The cry of the separatists was not a whisper. They had called out their near treasonous desires with frequency and fervor. Bol did nothing to quell them, as if he himself believed their venomous lies. And now it seemed, at the very least, he would give them what they wanted. He announced as much as he declared his intentions to Jon.

"I am relinquishing my right to the throne. I have already called for a scribe to prepare the notification. When he returns with the scroll, I will sign it. I, thus, banish myself from Dunop. You, being the only surviving heir, shall become king."

No other words could have brought greater fear to Jon's heart. His knees almost buckled at the prospect. An image came to his mind, an image of himself on the throne; weak, indecisive, and confused.

I do not want to be king!

Jon grasped at anything which might change this edict. "If the dwarves would not have you as their king, why will they accept me?"

"They do not blame you," Bol replied sullenly, almost as if he scorned such unfairness. "I have heard nothing from the crowds against you. Perhaps they think I wished you dead as well, and it was only by luck that you survived."

Bol steadied himself in a moment of silence. He turned and finally faced his son. His face appeared as hollow as his words. The thick skin under his eyes sank low with dark circles. His beard, ruffled and unkempt, curled unevenly in every direction. The wrinkles on his forehead appeared as if gouged with diamond-headed stone cutters. Though he looked at Jon, his focus seemed haphazard and distant.

"This is how it must be. There is nothing else I can do."

Bol's haggard appearance dropped Jon further into despair. He needed a moment to gather himself, but his father's wary glance and the tightening pain in his stomach gave him no reprieve. He spoke out desperately.

"What of the queen? What about her? Are you abandoning her as well?"

Bol's reply remained absent of any emotion. "She abandoned me long ago."

"And what am I to do with her? What do I say? If I am king, she can no longer be queen."

"She will have to accept this," Bol replied, almost as if he found some satisfaction in this thought. "It should be of no surprise to her, or to anyone. If I had died, such would be the case. Though it might have been better had I actually died, the result of my leaving is the same. I would not fret over it. She no longer seems content as queen. Just as I have been powerless, she has neglected her duties as well. She may actually be relieved."

Bol was interrupted by the entrance of the scribe. Four guards and several ministers of the court accompanied him.

"Forgive me sire," the scribe said with a shaky, uncertain tone. "but I thought it necessary to gather witnesses. In the history of Dunop, no king has ever relinquished the throne. I wanted to make sure no one would doubt your true intentions."

"No one will question this," the king responded. "If anything, they will question why it took me so long."

"Are you sure you wish to do this?" the scribe pressed, wishing to make it clear to the witnesses that it was the king's true intention and no one else's. "Perhaps you should wait, take time to consider the proposal?"

"Nothing will change my mind. Let me have the scroll."

For the first time in his life, the scribe delayed acting upon an order of his king. He stiffened as he opened the scroll, ignoring the king's open hand. He began to read every word upon the parchment.

Before Tun's death, Bol would have angrily snatched the scroll from the hand of the scribe, making it clear his orders were to be obeyed without hesitation. Now, however, Bol waited meekly as the scribe read the declaration.

The scribe's hands shook visibly as he read the words on the parchment. His own voice cracked as he spoke of Bol's self-proclaimed banishment, the last order of Bol Folarok before he would relinquish his own throne.

The words stung at Jon like a thousand angry bees. He wanted to shout out for the scribe to stop, but he did not. He wanted to flee from the room, but he remained. He even wished to strike out at his father, but his hands remained at his sides.

The witnesses failed to notice the pain of the prince. They watched instead the expression of their king. They looked for signs of opposition to the shocking declaration, but there was none. They saw only acceptance in his eyes, and his hands, when he eagerly signed the document.

The king, now a king no more, inhaled deeply. He turned his back one last time on his son, and he moved quietly out the door.

Near shock, those gathered in the room turned their attention from the exiting king to Jon.

Jon rubbed his face in despair. In this one moment, he appeared to age many cycles in an instant. As he dropped his hands away from his face, wrinkles etched new lines around his cheeks and forehead. His eyes sank further back into their sockets. His skin, normally pale from the lack of light in the tunnels, now hung from his bones with the shadows of even more pasty whiteness.

He looked to those before him with pleading eyes, and with despair on his lips. "What do I do?"

At first, no one spoke. Finally, Hern Grottman, the minister of construction and a close friend of Jon's, spoke the only true options. "You must announce the proclamation. You must inform the queen of the edict, and then you must post it for every dwarf to see. You must take the throne."

Jon groaned. The wail filled the chamber. He looked toward Hern with pleading eyes as the thought of becoming king crushed his very soul. "Is there nothing else I can do?"

Hern paused as he grimaced. He considered what he believed to be the only other option, an alternative which held dire consequences. "You can relinquish your right to the throne," the minister said guardedly, as if he really did not wish to speak of such a proposal. He saw a gleam of hope rise in Jon's eyes, but he quenched it almost immediately. "This holds no real hope for you, Jon. You do not have an heir. There is no one else to take your place. If you had an uncle or even a cousin, it might do, but that is not the case. If you do not take the throne, you invite anarchy. We might be able to find someone not far removed from the Folarok bloodline, but I seriously doubt our people will accept such an appointment. The separatists have grown strong in these passing days. They will see such action as an opportunity. I am certain they will rise and appoint their own leader. Do you really wish to risk this? If they take the throne, they will certainly execute every loyal member currently in your service."

Jon was unwilling to give up his hope in avoiding the throne. "What about my mother? What about the queen? She can maintain the throne and rule as queen? It has been done before. I would not have to become king and there would be no question as to her authority."

"But there would," Hern replied swiftly. "The queen is not of Folarok blood. By marrying Bol she became queen, not from her own heritage."

"Does that really matter?"

"It has in the past," Hern noted. "If you had a sister, you could easily relinquish to her, but sadly, such is not the case."

"This is madness!" Jon argued. "You are basically telling me I have no choice. There has to be another alternative. What if I died in Sanctum along with..., what if I were dead? What then?"

"But you are not dead. And hopefully, you are not thinking of anything so foolish." Hern bore into Jon's face with concerned eyes. "Suicide is not the answer."

"I'm not talking about suicide. I'm just asking what would have happened if Bol left and I was not here to take the throne. What would you do?"

Hern rubbed his thick beard with his own powerful hand. His short stout fingers broke spaces through the flowing hair before he tightened his hand into a fist.

"I suppose we would be forced to choose a new ruling family."

"Then do that now," Jon implored.

"We can not, for you are not dead."

"I could leave."

Hern clenched his teeth. He wished not to speak in such a manner to his friend, but he was given no alternative. He inhaled and let the full width of his body face Jon with unrelenting resolution. "Is that what you wish? Has the image of your father walking out of this room, turning his back on you, has this so quickly vanished from you mind? Would you now do the same to the people that depend on you?"

The dwarf guards and the other ministers held their breath in surprise at such words. They stared with fixed astonishment upon Hern's icy features.

Hern ignored the gasps of those around him. He continued with his gaze locked upon the prince who now had to be king.

"Yes, the dwarves of Dunop will survive without you. We will find a solution if that's what you force us to do, but that is not how it should be. I've known you for some time, Jon Folarok, and you are a Folarok. I know you don't wish to be king. You've never wanted the throne, but it is yours now. I truly feel for you, my friend. I see that you are aging before your time. I know this will only exact an even greater toll, but unfortunately, this is not the time for you to simply withdraw. I will say this with no regard for my own well-being; your father has done you—and all of Dunop—a disservice. He chose to run rather than face his true responsibility. I will hope that you do not do the same."

Hern exhaled heavily before continuing. "I can offer you but one point of solace. If you truly wish to relinquish the throne, wait until the time is proper. First you must quell the fears of our people, you must bring calm back to Dunop. Then, and only then, will it be advisable for us to search for a successor outside the Folarok name. But for now, I see but two choices for you - accept your fate, or leave Dunop as your father has left, with his back turned upon his people."

Hern finished his piece. He withdrew himself a pace from Jon and looked to the ground. He closed his eyes as he waited for Jon's response.

The space which Hern allowed now isolated the prince. Jon felt as if a moat now surrounded him. His shoulders went limp. He spoke, not with resolve, but with grudging acceptance. "It shall be as you say. I will take the throne."

Hern, though grateful for these words, spoke now with a soft and unchallenging voice, a proper tone for a subordinate addressing a king. "Dunop thanks you, and I thank you."

"I need your help, not your thanks," Jon responded sorrowfully.

"I will do all that I can. I will stand by you, I will advise you, if you allow."

"I need advice. I don't know what to do."

Again Hern stroked his beard. "There is much to do. The work shall be in deciding how to do it. The people of Dunop will be advised of the change. I am sure word will spread quickly. As to any formal announcements, let me suggest that as you take the throne you do it as unceremoniously as possible. Without insult to you, I do not believe this is a time for celebration."

Feeling as if being led to slaughter, Jon could only agree. "No, absolutely no celebration. This is no time of joy, not for anyone."

Yave said not a word to her son when he entered her chambers. Her stare bore holes through him. To those that accompanied the new king, she looked at him not as a son, but as more of a shadow. When he announced Bol's proclamation, her anger rose.

"So, the bastard has left," the queen sneered. "And now you think you can walk in here and cast me aside as if I don't count."

"I am not casting you aside."

Yave's face, now crimson with fury, swelled with distorted proportions. "You are as much responsible for Tun's death as was your father, as were those filthy algors! And now you profit from his death."

Like a spear thrown through the air, this barb drilled Jon to the core. Though not taking a step back, he slouched after flinching from the pain. "I didn't want Tun dead. I wish it were me instead."

"Will that bring him back?" Yave pressed.

"No," Jon replied meekly. "Nothing will bring him back."

Yave sneered. She folded stocky arms across her wide chest. She gathered in her anger, and in long silent moments, she sized up the situation before her. Bol was gone, Bol who refused to do what she asked. But would Jon refuse? Her eyes narrowed under her fairly thick eyebrows.

"So what do you intend to do now?"

Jon straightened as best he could. He spoke in low tones, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "I will have the proclamation posted, but there will be no ceremony. Word will spread of the change. Hopefully, it will quell the angry calls that seem to have been growing."

"And how will you approach the other matters?" Yave questioned expectantly.

"What other matters?" Jon replied almost defensively.

"If you are to be king, you now dictate policy. What will you do about our dealings with the elves?!" Yave punctuated this with hostility. "Will you continue to have relations with them, even though it was the elves that made the request that brought your brother to Sanctum?"

"We need the elves," Jon stated with apprehension to his mother's response. He babbled on, hoping to quell the rising objections which were apparent in his mother's expression. "The elves provide us with wood for our fires and with food."

"We can get both ourselves," Yave declared defiantly.

"You would have me send dwarves to the surface?"

"It has been done before."

"Not for such constant needs. We are not prepared for such a monumental change, perhaps over time..."

Yave bit down on her lip. She wanted to press the issue, but instead, she pursued another topic which obviously consumed her with greater ferocity. "Will you at least demand their assistance when we deal with the algors?"

Jon blinked. He was not sure what the queen meant, not sure he wanted to know.

His dumbfounded demeanor irritated Yave. Her angry stare narrowed on a point between his eyes. Her voice was as cold as mountain snow. "You do intend to deal with the algors, don't you? You were at Sanctum. You saw your brother die at the hands of their creation. You can't just let this deed go unpunished."

"It was not the fault of the algors," Jon protested. "It was the sphere ..."

Yave would not let him continue. "It was the algors! They created the sand giants. They failed to control them! Did an algor die in the tier of the dwarves? No! But a dwarf, Tun, died in their tier. They are responsible for the death of a dwarf prince! You can not allow this to go unpunished. We must exact justice."

"There would be no justice in that."

"So you intend to do nothing about this?" Yave questioned in near disbelief.

"What can be done? Nothing will bring Tun back to us."

"But something can be done that will show them all that we still honor his memory!" Yave shouted. "It will show every race that the dwarves will not allow their own to be slaughtered and butchered!"

Jon shook his head in despair. "I can not give you what you ask. A war with the algors will accomplish nothing."

Again, Yave exploded. "And you think you can be king?! I will not allow this! If you don't do what is right, I will not support you. I won't step down."

"You don't have a choice," Jon said sadly. "None of us do."

Yave screamed with vehemence. "Give your orders, post your decrees! And then, see who follows them. You think you can just take over, do you think anyone will listen to you?"

Hern, who stood beside Jon, could take the harangue no longer. For the past many days, he had heard the whispers of revolt grow into near shouts. He held his tongue, waiting for Bol to quell the tide of rebellion, an action never taken. Now, with Bol gone and his friend facing the heavy duties of healing Dunop, he would remain silent no longer.

"Enough of this!" Hern demanded. "You are no longer the queen. And you speak to the king with words of treason. I will no longer permit this."

Yave threw a glance of utter poison toward the minister. "You dare..."

"No, you dare!" Hern cut her off angrily, defiantly. "And you dare too much. As I have said, you are no longer queen. Your service is to the new king. If you can not hold your emotions, then do as Bol. Leave Dunop. Leave now, before we face yet another embarrassment."

It took great determination, but Yave broke her glare from Hern and turned it with impatience towards Jon. "Is this what you want as well?"

Jon did not know what he wanted at this point, only that he did not want to be king. He could only shrug with a pained expression.

Yave would not accept the response. "I will give you one more chance. Will you restore honor to Tun's name? Will you attack the algors?"

"I can't do that."

"Then leave me. We have nothing left to talk about."

Jon simply nodded. He turned from Yave and beckoned Hern to follow.

Though the minister found the situation unresolved, the queen's intentions still unknown, he would not question the king. Hern turned and followed obediently.

As the two exited and turned up a long corridor, their departure was followed by Yave's angry shouts

"Tun should be taking the throne, not you! Tun should be king! Do you hear me?! Do you hear me?"

Her screams faded behind Jon as he nearly ran down the corridor and away from Yave.

Two days after Bol's departure, it seemed as if little had been accomplished by his leaving. Word had spread of the change in monarchs, but the shouts of the separatists continued to thrive. The growing mobs in the caverns of Dunop seemed as discontent with Jon as they were with his father. Worse, word of the queen's defiance had also spread. The separatist leaders took this news to heart and rumors of overthrow were now actually being heard in neighboring cities.

Jon made weary but forthright efforts to bring stability back to the palace. He gathered his ministers. He dismissed those who might doubt his leadership and replaced them with dwarves with long allegiance to the Folarok family. He promoted Hern to Chief Adviser and listened well to all his proposals. He left Yave to herself in the palace, hoping she might eventually swallow her bitterness, but he revoked most of her authority by retiring her staff, except for her personal servants.

As for the separatists, he offered a number of proclamations which he felt might pacify them, or at least take the bite out of their contentions. He announced a desire to hire and train dwarves to venture above ground and collect wood from Dark Spruce Forest. Once dwarves were proficient in doing so, he would reduce trade, and thereby contact, with the elves. He also stated his intentions to prevent any humans from mining within the hills over their heads. Without revealing the location or even existence of their underground city, they would discourage any such attempts. Any exploratory mine-shafts begun by the humans would be blocked with reinforced dwarf construction, and any resources the humans might deem valuable would be removed before they could be found.

These decisions were announced with the hope of bringing a greater feeling of independence and security to the dwarves of Dunop. Unfortunately, they fell short of the separatists ultimate desires. These dwarves wanted complete independence from every other race. They believed that only by gaining the grudging respect for their superiority would the elves and humans truly leave them in peace. They did not want to hide from the humans, they wanted the humans to hide from them. They did not want to rely on the elves for anything, they wanted the elves to come begging to them for gems and metals.

None of Jon's new proposals would accomplish this. Trade with the elves would still be necessary for food. The humans would be tricked into leaving rather than forced into running in fear.

The one aspect, however, that truly allowed the separatists to grow in power was fear, fear of the magic that spilled out of the sphere and now flooded the land. The dwarves could never utilize this power as the other races. Its reappearance was not welcome. The return of the magic truly allowed the separatists to fuel the fears of the other dwarves, and those fears grew despite Jon's pledge to further Dunop's independence.

Hern recognized this with increasing alarm. Had Bol made these proclamations, they might have sufficed. They might have actually ended the separatist movement. But Bol had left, ran away without dignity, and this was the dagger strike to the heart of the throne. Jon was looked upon as a weak king or not a king at all. The spreading word of Yave's own defiance did much to encourage the scorn heaped upon the new monarch.

Worse yet, Hern was now receiving intelligence that Yave was actually courting the allegiance of the separatist leaders. Mother of the king or not, this could not be tolerated. It had to be stopped, even if it meant her execution. Hern addressed Jon with respect and care over such a delicate matter, but with no less resolve.

They spoke in a small chamber away from guards and other ministers.

"We have a problem," Hern said gravely.

Jon slouched as if another weight was cast upon his shoulders. "What is it now?" His voice carried the fatigue of the past few days.

"I am receiving news involving Yave." The adviser chose his next words very carefully. "Word has already spread of her unwillingness to accept you as king."

"It doesn't matter what she accepts," Jon interrupted. His tone made it clear he did not wish to discuss the situation with his mother. Hern, however, persisted.

"I'm afraid that's not the problem." Hern spoke faster now, trying to speak the full point of his concerns before Jon stopped him again. "The fact is that she does not accept your authority, and others now follow her lead. There is even talk of an alliance between Yave and the separatist leaders. Such an alliance could have only one purpose, to remove you from the throne."

At first, Jon wondered if such a prospect was truly such a misfortune. However, he bit back his desire to escape his new responsibilities and attempted to focus on the validity of Hern's distress.

"How much of this is rumor and how much is truth?"

"My sources are reliable."

Jon rubbed his wide wrinkled forehead. "What is the extent of the alliance, how far has it progressed?"

"As of now, not very far. I doubt they've even met. To my knowledge, Yave has not left the palace. Contact must have been made through couriers, possibly one of her servants."

"We could question them, dismiss them without telling her." Jon offered as an easy solution.

"She'd know, and it wouldn't stop her," Hern replied stoically. "It would just make her that much more determined to advance the alliance. And it wouldn't stop the efforts of the separatists to use her against you."

"Then what should we do?" Jon questioned in near exasperation.

"The only way to stop this and bring authority back to the throne is to have her acknowledge your right to rule."

"She won't do that."

"Then you will have to force her."

Jon's face filled with horror. "I can't do that."

"Then banish her from Dunop."

"I can't do that, either."

"You're not leaving us with any other options."

"There must be something else we could do."

As he had done many times before this meeting, Hern contemplated the problem and searched for clear solutions. He spoke openly to his king of his own interpretations. "We face two threats. The first is Yave's unwillingness to accept your authority. The second is a possible move of the separatists using your mother as the means to remove you from the throne. You are obviously against dealing with Yave to rectify the first problem. The second, however, can not be as easily ignored. I would have preferred that you would have addressed both, but it is as you will. If we are to stop the separatists, and the anarchy that would follow, we must keep Yave from making any deals with them. I can only suggest that you have Yave watched and her servants followed. If we round up those that show involvement in this conspiracy, we might yet end this rebellion without forcing a showdown with Yave."

As if to immediately oppose this proposition, a shrill scream echoed through the halls. Groans erupted, foreshadowed with the clash of steel. Shuffling footsteps broke softly beneath the wooden door which separated Hern and Jon from the palace corridors. Hern moved for his axe, but he was not a warrior. He fumbled with the handle just as the source of the conflict exploded into the chamber.

The door crashed open. A handful of dwarves broke into the dimly lit room with weapons drawn. Blood stained more than one of the razor sharp axe heads. They took hold of Hern roughly and relieved him of his weapon.

"It seems she has moved quicker than I could have guessed." Hern grunted.

The rebels shook him and demanded silence.

Initially, Jon watched as if he was nothing more than some distant spectator. His demeanor changed drastically, however, as four rebel dwarves surrounded him with axe and mace drawn. The new king stood his ground. He stood firm; angry. The burdens of responsibility which burdened his shoulders dissolved with a sneer of his own fury. He glared with defiance, and for the first time since Bol left, he stood with the aura of authority. Finally, he appeared as a king.

He folded his hands across his chest, making no move for his own weapon. His head turned upon his neck as his feet remained firm, cemented in place by concrete will. He looked to each dwarf that confronted him. His tongue was silent as his eyes dared any of them to commit the crime of regicide. Finally, he grew impatient. He wished not to dignify the event by addressing these pawns, but he wished to move this encounter to its conclusion.

"Well?"

The rebels hesitated. They looked among themselves. None answered.

Jon grunted with disgust. "I am going to the throne room. I assume one of your leaders, hopefully more articulate than you, will be waiting there to give his demands."

Without an eye or a care to the rebels, Jon's hands dropped to his belt and unhitched his mace. He threw it to the ground, thereby disarming himself. The weapon made a lonely thud against the stone floor.

Jon stepped up to the lone dwarf that blocked his way to the door. "If you intend to stop me, I suggest you swing that axe now. No? Then step aside." He turned his head back to the others. "And unhand my advisor. He will accompany me. Follow if you will. Your presence means nothing. It's your leaders I wish to address."

At first, those holding Hern did not comply, but a hard sneer from the king and his defiance to move without his minister forced their submission. Hern stepped free and moved along side his king. The rebels followed closely behind.

As Jon stepped past slain palace guards, rage filled his brain. He cursed heavily as dwarves well-known to him lay in crumpled heaps near the wide doors of the throne room. The sight of Yave sitting smugly on the throne, surrounded by dwarves unknown to him, did little to ease his anger. He had to bite his lip in order to avoid a heated explosion, but he would no longer cower before his mother. He faced her with shoulders squared and back straight. He looked into her face with unblinking eyes. When he spoke, his voice would not crack. It carried the weight of authority Yave would not recognize.

"What you have done here is criminal."

Yave was caught off guard. She expected Jon to whimper, not this.

The king disregarded her surprise. "Those that stand with you now also share this crime. And none of this can be forgotten or overlooked. I will make no plea to you, no demand for reason or request for mercy. I know you well enough that such words would be useless. You are stubborn enough and filled with enough hatred to have your way regardless of the means. It seems you have taken the throne. What is your will now? How will you further divide the dwarves of Dunop?"

Yave stared into Jon's face as if she did not recognize him. "I am once again queen. I will not divide the dwarves, but bring them together. I will bring them together by seeking justice against those that have dared to wrong us."

"You are no longer the queen!" Hern shouted. "This is treason."

The queen placed an apathetic glance upon the advisor, but she would not be insulted by him again. She mouthed an order as if calling for dinner.

"Kill him."

A rebel by her side drew a broad sword, and with deft precision, pierced Hern through the heart. Hern doubled over and folded into a quickly growing pool of his own blood.

"No!" Jon cried and he attempted to rush to his minister. Several rebels took hold of him and kept him in place. Tears filled his eyes. As he could no longer look at the lifeless body of his true friend, he slammed his eyelids shut and the tears rolled down his cheeks, disappearing into his gray beard.

Yave ignored the anguish of her son as did the remaining dwarves in the throne room. He was powerless, he was no longer king.

The transference of power was illustrated in Yave's own transformation. Her expression of anger and fury quickly mutated into determination fueled by newfound power. She felt the approval of the rebels that surrounded her, and she chose to feed it. "Let it be known that the rightful ruler of Dunop has retrieved her throne. Let it also be known that all treaties and alliances are null and void. The dwarves of Dunop no longer need to depend on the elves. We will begin collecting all food and wood for ourselves. There will be no more trade with the elves. We will also no longer live with the threat of the humans. Any human mine shafts begun near our city will be destroyed. Any humans found near the entrances to our home will be summarily executed. It is also time we amend the greatest grievance cast upon us. I declare war upon the algors, the ones responsible for the death of Tun Folarok, the true heir to my throne."

Nodding approvals came from those rebels that surrounded Yave. They had their victory. The dwarves would become self-sufficient and more. They would reaffirm their superiority; they would teach a lesson to any that dared to oppose them. They would no longer hide from the humans, and they would no longer rely on the elves. They truly did not care if Tun's death was avenged, but they were more than happy to assert their superiority over the algors as well. They welcomed the war.

A lone voice called out objection.

"What you're doing is wrong!" Jon heaved.

"Is it? Is it wrong to extract justice? Tun was killed by sand giants created by the algors. You yourself brought that news back from Sanctum. The sand giants were merely the weapons, the algors were the murderers. I will not let this crime go unpunished."

"What about your crimes?" Jon wailed. The knowledge of what had happened tormented his soul. "Good dwarves lie dead because of your deeds. Who will bring justice to their families that grieve for them?"

The queen remained unfazed. "People that protect or defend murderers create their own grief. They do not require justice."

"That's ludicrous," the dethroned king cried. It was more of a moan than a statement.

Yave grew tired of this talk. "Take him away. We need not kill him. We will imprison him and use him as an example that justice will always be served."

The rebels pulled at Jon and dragged him from the throne room.

Yave addressed her separatist followers. "This is a dangerous time. Magic is free in the land and a threat to every living dwarf. Magic casters from every race will grow strong with the energy that fills the air. They will wish to attack us. We must show we are not weak, that we are unwilling to allow any race to commit crimes against us. The algors will prove an example for the rest of the land. It is time for us to plan our attack."

Chapter 2

Before the magic, before the breach in Sanctum, a delver could seek out the wilderness for untold days. There was little to fear. The challenge was in uncovering the secrets of the land, not in avoiding danger. The greatest threat was the weather, or an occasional wild animal, perhaps a bear or a wolf. No real challenge for a delver. But that was then, and things were different since the destruction of the sphere.

Ryson Acumen, the delver responsible for saving the land from Ingar and his talisman, and just as responsible for the subsequent release of the magic, faced these changes every day. The danger of dealing with the unknown, of dealing with dark creatures, and of dealing with magical mutations was now his to assume. He could not ignore these things, and he could certainly not avoid them. His instincts, his desires, forced him into the wilderness, forced him into the peril. He would not disregard his feelings. He could not; he was a delver.

The call was indeed strong, so many shifts in the land. He thirsted to uncover them all, all of the new secrets created by the magic. With each exploration, he was never disappointed. He found subtle alterations in the ground, in the brush, even in the wind. The magical energy that had spilled out of the sphere seemed determined to make its mark upon every inch of Uton, and though these changes offered much for an exploring delver, they also created new evil.

The signs of bizarre and deadly threats manifested themselves in different ways. Each time he scouted the land, each time he explored territory he thought he knew, he found signs of creatures difficult to imagine. Dark creatures long absent from Uton and unable to exist without the free flowing magic were now returning. These were creatures out of nightmares.

Monsters.

Their descriptions would have been considered the delusions of the insane had the creatures themselves not made their presence so notable. Shags, goblins, and river rogues felt no inhibition in attacking and killing the other inhabitants of the land. Though these creatures had returned to Uton less than a full cycle ago, they already made their mark in the form of hundreds of victims.

On this day, late in the season of harvest, Ryson continued a scout of the hills surrounding his newly adopted home town of Burbon. He surveyed the crest of a small rolling hill. He looked upon the ground with dismay as markings within the soil revealed unpleasant news.

"Shag tracks," he noted to himself. "They get closer to the wall every day."

His hand tested the depth of a single foot print and the hardness of the ground. "He's a big boy," he grimaced as he looked around for fresher signs. He calculated these tracks to be made the previous night, but there was nothing around which signaled immediate danger. The hill grass was growing tall. It could hide a large shag if it stayed belly to the ground, but not if it stood to move, certainly not one this large.

"I wonder what it was doing up here?" Ryson questioned. He carefully followed the trail, and mimicked the motions he attributed to each track.

"Small steps. A kneel here at the edge. It must have been hunting. But what was it after?"

The delver stretched his neck as he stood on tiptoes and surveyed the rolling hillsides. His eyes immediately focused upon depressions in the grass.

Without hesitation, he glided down the hillside toward the markings. His own legs left barely a trace in the tall thicket. Light steps lifted and dropped among the tall strands with careful grace, moving them aside with the same gentle precision of a warm southern breeze. When he reached his objective, the true wind shuffled the field back to its natural order. The best of trackers would not have found his path.

Ryson remained alert with both ear and nose as his eyes traced across the older depressions in the grass. Tall strands were pushed out of the way carelessly. They even showed cuts, signs of short swords being used to hack through the thick brush. Ryson had seen these signs before as well.

"Goblins again," he whispered.

The signs were unmistakable, including small footprints of several clustered together. The tracks clearly indicated movement in a defensive formation, but the winding swath through the field pointed toward scouting activity. It appeared as if Burbon was attracting yet another goblin raiding party.

He followed the trail carefully, hoping to avoid an ambush. His nose could distinguish no scent fresher than that which lingered from the depressions, but the wind was at his back, any scent ahead of him would be difficult to seize.

He looked back to the top of the hill where he had found the shag prints. A question came to his lips that he whispered with confusion.

"Why didn't the shag attack? There were only six goblins. He could have had at least two of them for dinner."

He continued for a few steps more, crouched over with his head and back below the top of the grass that encompassed him. He stepped lightly, making not a sound. It saved his life.

The grass in front of him rustled in opposition to the breeze. Ryson froze. He caught the scent of approaching goblins, heard their guttural whispers. With teeth clenched, he waited for another rustle. When it came, he rolled to his side, moved out of the open swath and into thicker cover.

The noise of his own movements was hidden by the clamorous shuffling of those he hoped to evade. He kneeled as quiet and as motionless as a wary rabbit. His hand found the hilt of the Sword of Decree.

A half-dozen goblins slowly moved into his sight, they were not alone. A single serp walked with them. The sight angered Ryson.

Serps were the malevolent brains behind the goblin raids. Tactical and strategic specialists, they cared little for actual combat. They used the easily manipulated goblins to carry out their blood plans.

According to the legends, serps were an offshoot of the algor race, a tribe which had dabbled in the dark recesses of the magical energy. They wished to break their struggle between individualistic desires and group belonging that made the algors such an unpredictable breed. They had succeeded in that province but left themselves reliant upon the magic. When the magic was swallowed by Ingar's sphere, their presence faded as well. Now, just like the magic, they were back.

Serps displayed greater characteristics of a snake than the algors, especially about the head and neck. They had arms and legs, and walked upright, but the serps were shorter than the algors, closer in fact, to the stature of a goblin. Serps also had tails, long thin extensions of their back bones that slithered behind them as they walked.

Ryson now knew why the shag didn't attack. Serps were the most cunning of the dark creatures. It was believed they could actually hypnotize the less intelligent monsters. The legends included stories of packs of shags and river rogues banding together to attack in force. Such behavior among territorial creatures and natural rivals would be impossible without the driving force of a sorcerer's magic or the depraved treachery of a serp's tongue.

Ryson leapt to his feet. The sudden movement caught the goblins off guard. They could not load and fire their crossbows fast enough. The delver drew his sword and the magical blade magnified the light all around them.

Shocked and bewildered, stunned by the glowing blade, the goblins scattered. The six ran off in different direction. They spat as they grumbled words unintelligible to all but their own kind.

The delver knew the battle was not over. He had seen this maneuver before. Goblins would appear to flee in opposing directions only to regroup with crossbows ready. They would form a perimeter around the enemy within range of their arrows. Anyone that stood and watched, thinking the goblins defeated, would be caught in the center of a multi-pointed crossfire.

Ryson did not remain still. He took only a moment to issue a notice to the serp that recoiled in front of him.

"I'll be back. I'm not finished with you."

With his last word echoing behind him, he sprinted off to the east. He sheathed his sword as he ran so as not to carry a beacon for the other goblins to take aim. A blur through the grass, he easily caught the first goblin that struggled through the tall thicket. He relieved the snarling creature of its crossbow and its short sword. Since he did not need another goblin prisoner, he had caught many in the past season, he simply turned away from the spitting, hissing creature. He tossed the crossbow and the sword far off into the grass as he pressed upon the next closest goblin. Again, he disarmed the creature only to ignore it. He was forced to do this only once more as the final three realized their plight and ran off out of range.

With the goblin threat removed, Ryson deftly moved back to the original spot of confrontation. Though he had no desire to capture a goblin, the serp was another matter. He had not yet gained a serp prisoner, and it would do him well to earn one now. Unfortunately, the serp was gone.

Ryson felt no distress, for he knew the creature was not far off. Serps were not known for their physical prowess. While they were mentally superior to almost every other dark creature, they could do little in the way of fighting, or even simply running away.

Almost instantly, he spotted the retreating tracks of the serp. His eyes followed the path to a nearby patch of tall grass. He nearly laughed at the futile attempt to hide or perhaps even ambush. Ryson bent down and picked up a small rock. He threw it gracefully at the tall brush. The result was not as he expected.

One of the largest shags he had ever seen rose from the thicket and it showed an eagerness to engage the delver. It stood over twice Ryson's own height and carried the bulk of an ox. It snarled as its hands flexed with a desire to crush the delver's skull.

Ryson was more than surprised, he was confused. How could he have missed the presence of such a monster? The question, however, answered itself as Ryson noticed thick layers of grass clinging to the matted fur. In places, the monster looked more like a walking pile of hill grass than a shag. Beyond that, he could almost smell the lingering magic that seemed to surround the beast. The serp’s sorcery had helped camouflage the shag from both Ryson’s eyes and nose. The delver made a mental note to be more careful for such tricks in the future, but for now, the shag was closer than Ryson felt comfortable. It roared in anger. Behind it, Ryson could hear the snicker of the serp.

Again, the delver found anger. This time, unfortunately, he could do nothing. He was no match for a shag, especially one of this size. The hope of capturing the serp faded with another roar from the shag's drooling mouth. Ryson grimaced, but would not accept total defeat. If a serp was out scouting the hills around Burbon, it was obviously interested in a raid. He decided to put a damper on such plans as he yelled a warning before retreating.

"I know why you're here, serp. This shag might protect you from me, but it won't help you attack Burbon. I'll have the guard doubled, and I'll be watching for any signs of goblin movements. You won't get close to Burbon's wall, let alone past it."

It sounded an empty threat as Ryson backpedaled away from the slowly encroaching shag, but he knew it would more than suffice. The serp would certainly call off any plans of an immediate raid. They didn't like being outmaneuvered, and they didn't like losing their pawns because they had forfeited the element of surprise. Since Burbon would now be tipped off to a possible strike, the serp would simply have to redesign its plans.

Ryson could not see the serp, for it remained hidden behind the shag, but he knew it had heard him. With that, he turned his back on the monster, and retreated in a blur.

After putting a good distance between him and the shag, the delver pulled to a halt as he reached a lonely winding road which cut through these hills. The path wasn't used much anymore, not by normal citizens, not while shags and goblins waited in the surrounding area. It existed now only for patrols on horseback.

Ryson stood at the road's center, away from the tall grass which crept up to its sides. He first checked all about him for immediate threats. He found none.

Feeling secure, he placed his concentration on what the serp and goblins might have been after. To the northeast, his keen eyesight picked up a trace outline of the newly constructed wall which surrounded Burbon. He was now thankful it was built so fast. He looked to the gate towers which rose higher than the hills. He gauged the distance from where he stood to the southern tower platform, and then factored in the last position of the serp and the goblins.

"They were probably checking for blind spots," he noted to himself.

His eyes scanned the hills that rolled directly south of Burbon. He paced about as his focus fell upon a ridge that might offer what the serp desired.

"They'd be able to get awfully close if they approached from that angle. We'll have to build another tower."

The need for more construction forced him to consider the amount of work already completed since he had moved to Burbon; a fortress wall and five towers. Now they would need a sixth. He knew the people wouldn't complain. They accepted, even invited, the rigid requirements that would keep them safe. Burbon was one of the last outposts before Dark Spruce Forest, and nothing separated it from the wilderness which seemed to generate the existence of so many threats. If another tower was needed, what else could they do?

He thought of the previous town he called home, Connel, and how different it was from Burbon. Most of it was simply due to size. Connel probably housed thirty times the amount of people as Burbon, and it included farmland that stretched out beyond the safety of walls or towers. Connel didn't even bother with defensive construction. They simply forged an army. Platoons would protect the rims of the farmlands as delvers would scout the perimeter on an ongoing basis. Hundreds of men stood armed and ready at any one moment within the city to repel any goblin raid.

Such a thing was just not possible for Burbon, there were too few people. They had to make the most of their small force of guards. That's why they all accepted the new wall and the towers, and it was why they accepted him, the only delver to live in their midst. They needed him more than Connel needed him. His explorations gave them warning, probably saved them from being overrun completely. There were just simply too many breeding grounds nearby for anyone in Burbon to dismiss the need for scouts. The Fuge River, the hills, especially the forest; all held danger.

The delver took off for Burbon's main gate. He paused only at the entrance to warn the guards of the serp's presence in the field. They tensed at the warning, but he bid them to be at ease. He assured them the serp wouldn't attack now. It was too early in the day and the serp had been uncovered. Still, he would pass the news to Sy, the captain of the guard, before night fall.

First, he wished to see Linda, the true reason he now made Burbon his home. He went immediately to the Borderline Inn. He expected to find her behind the bar, but he found only her substitute who said Linda had left to find him.

A twinge of anxiety took a nibble at the delver. She never went looking for him at midday, when he was normally out on patrol. She knew he would be impossible to find. If she needed to see him, it must have been for something of great importance. His curiosity pressed upon his thoughts. He left for his house, thinking she would try there after she found he was not with Sy.

He moved quickly up to the small cottage door, but he paused before entering. His ears picked up a conversation. Low tones. Seriousness. His vast memory allowed him to recognize the second voice immediately. He threw open the door with unbridled enthusiasm. He saw Linda sitting across from more than just an old friend. The guest looked just the same as when Ryson left him on Sanctum's peak.

"Lief!" the delver nearly shouted. "Lief Woodson."

With a huge smile, Ryson nearly leapt toward his guest. He wanted to say so much, he couldn't get any words out of his mouth. He took Lief's hand with a joyous shake.

Linda stood up to meet her fiancé. She took his free hand and quickly explained.

"He came to the bar first. He was looking for you. Apparently when you last saw him, you told him there was someone special at the Borderline. I only hope you were talking about me. I wanted to help him find you and I didn't want an elf looking around on his own. We went to see if you were with Sy, but some of the guards said you were still out on a scout. I figured this was the best place to wait for you."

Ryson would not have been able to hide his happiness had he wanted to. "It's great to see you, Lief. Godson, it seems like only yesterday, but then again it seems like forever. I never would have believed to see you here. I remember how much you hated being in Connel. I can't imagine this place is any better for you. They didn't give you any trouble at the gate, did they?"

Lief shook his head. "No, they thought I was just another human."

"Another human? Not likely." He turned to Linda. "This is the first elf I ever met. I didn't even know elves existed, and he just dropped out of a tree."

"I know," she replied with a smile. "You've told me a hundred times."

Ryson swerved his attention back to Lief. The delver wore an excited grin. Here before him was a friend, but also an elf. Indeed, he had tried to explain it to Linda a hundred times before, but he never believed words would do it justice. Now, he had a much better way. "Hey, do me a favor. Show Linda your ears. She's never seen an elf before."

Lief sighed, but acquiesced. He pulled the long brown hair away from his ears, revealing their pointed tips.

Ryson looked to Linda. "Amazing?"

"Not for me. You've told me enough about elves and dwarves. I never doubted you. You can't expect me to be as shocked as you were. I've already been through things like goblin raids." She looked towards Lief. "You'll have to forgive him. Since we're getting married, he wants me to know everything he knows. Some people might get excited at the sight of an elf, but I know how much you helped keep him alive. I'm more grateful to you than anything else."

"Married?" Lief offered a wide smile to the couple. "Congratulations to you both."

Linda returned the smile. She gave Ryson a slight hug as her hand slipped around his waist. "Thank you. We don't have a date yet. Everyone, even me, is having a hard time adjusting to the changes. We thought it would be better if we gave it some time for everyone to adjust to what's happening. There's so much going on right now."

"More than you know," Lief added

Ryson immediately caught the tone of this grave announcement. For the first time, he truly examined the elf's expression. There was joy to be sure, joy in seeing a friend, but there was also concern, attention on a not so distant problem. He also considered what would make the elf leave Dark Spruce. What would make Lief willingly enter the walls of Burbon?

"You're not here to just say hello, are you? What's going on?"

Lief cleared his throat, as if reluctant to state the true purpose of his visit. "I'm afraid there is a great problem arising."

"Again?"

Lief acknowledged the reference to their last problem; the trek through Sanctum's core, the battle with Ingar, and the final destruction of the sphere. "No, this is not quite the same. In truth, this does not even really affect the humans, and only to a slight degree the elves. But it does involve us. You and me. It involves all who stood together within Sanctum to save the land. It has much to do with the dwarves and what happened to Tun."

Ryson grimaced at the memory.

Linda's focus shifted from the elf to her fiancé. She felt a tenseness growing in his body. She knew the pain he felt when he recalled those who died to save the land from the sphere. Tun was one of three to give their lives at Sanctum, and it was a memory that would always haunt Ryson. She turned back to Lief and spoke up to prevent a lingering silence. "Ryson told me of what happened in the mountain. Tun died while helping to destroy the sphere. Why is that causing a problem?"

Not knowing how much Linda knew of the events, Lief recounted the most important highlights. "Tun was a prince, the son of King Bol and Queen Yave, rulers of Dunop. Tun was killed by a sand giant, a creation of the algors. Jon, Tun's brother who was also with us in Sanctum, reported the event upon his return to Dunop. Things spiraled out of control after that moment.

"Things were hard enough in Dunop as it was. The dwarves were split about helping destroy the sphere at the very start. Many of them are afraid of the magic. When Jon returned with the sad story, the magic was already loose, and the dwarves were ready to blame anyone for their fears. The king became an easy target. It seems Bol could not live with the guilt of sending his son to his death. He relinquished the throne to Jon and banished himself from Dunop."

"So Jon's now the king?" Ryson interrupted. His delver instincts kicked in as he attempted to imagine the circumstances in the underground city. He openly wondered of the sequence of events and Jon's ability to lead. "That has to be tough, facing the death of his brother and now his father leaves. How's he doing?"

"He is no longer the king," Lief replied gravely. "Queen Yave would not support her younger son. I am told she blames him as much as she blames the algors."

At first, Ryson appeared dumbfounded. Nothing could be further from the truth. He shook his head as if to get the words from his mouth. "That's ridiculous. Jon had nothing to do with it, and neither did the algors. The sphere prevented the algors from controlling the giants. Tun attacked on his own. That's why he died."

"I am afraid that is not how Yave sees it."

"What has she done?"

"She made a deal with the separatists, a group of dwarves that want to end all ties with every other race. That is why I said it affects the elves only slightly and the humans not at all. The humans have no working relation with the dwarves. You would probably not even notice the change. As for the elves, we will see an end to trade with Dunop. It is not such a major concern. A setback to our relations, yes, but we will certainly survive without their assistance. If it all stopped there, I might not even be here now, but breaking ties will apparently not satisfy Yave's anger. She has declared war against the algors."

Ryson rubbed his chin. He had known of wars between humans, but until this moment, he never truly considered a war involving the other races. He had difficulty envisioning what it might mean, a war between algor and dwarf, but what he could imagine did not sit well with him.

"You said Jon was no longer the king. What happened, and why can't he stop this?"

"Rebellion, I'm afraid," Lief replied. "Yave's deal with the separatists included a violent overthrow of Jon. Apparently, separatist warriors stormed the palace, killing many dwarf guards loyal to the Folarok name. Jon has been imprisoned by his own mother. As far as the reports go, he is still alive, but it is difficult to confirm. If he is a prisoner, he would be kept in a palace cell. The separatists are careful, and they are making sure there is no challenge to Yave's power. She retains her throne as queen and now rules without much resistance. This is no true surprise, she was the queen under Bol's reign and many dwarves still recognize her as the true leader. Those loyal to Jon and the Folarok name are too few in number to provide any true threat. As long as Yave appeases the separatists, she will remain in power."

"You're certain of all this?"

"Very certain. Through the period of Bol's departure to Yave's rebellion, we continued to trade with dwarves who still saw elves as their allies. We received reports. We are still receiving reports now, though not as many. Some dwarves see Yave's plans in their true light, as nothing more than a thirst for irrational revenge. They see a pointless loss of life and wish to do anything to stop it. Some are acting as spies and are calling for whatever we can do. They must remain careful, however, for if they are caught reporting to elves, they will surely be executed."

Ryson sorted quickly through the new information. He tapped his fingers together lightly as he tried to place things in a logical order. "What is it the loyal dwarves have in mind? If the separatists are entrenched in Dunop and the majority of dwarves accept Yave's rule, I see little that can be done. I mean, what could we do? Send a war party of humans and elves into Dunop to free Jon and restore him to power? I doubt we'd be successful. We'd be fighting in their environment, upon their home ground. They'd probably slaughter us. And even if we did succeed in sending a raiding party to free Jon, what would that truly accomplish? Do you think any dwarf would trust him again if they saw humans helping him? No, this is a civil war. The dwarves have to call for Jon's return. We can't force it on them."

"I agree, as do the elves of my camp. We feel for Jon and those dwarves that remain our allies, but we should not try to exercise our will upon Dunop. In the long run, it will bring no good. Those dwarves that call for our help also grudgingly agree, but they do seek another option. One that I might have undertaken anyway."

"And what's that?"

"To warn the algors before the war begins," Lief stated firmly. "They believe that if the algors have been forewarned, they can prepare for the inevitable battle. If a dwarf assault is unsuccessful, it might create an embarrassment for Yave. The dwarves are stubbornly proud. A loss to the less physically capable algors would certainly cause such an embarrassment. Yave might be forced to relinquish."

Ryson eyed Lief dubiously. "You don't really believe that, do you? You don't really think a dwarf would give up if she was beaten in one battle?"

Lief shook his head. "No. It will only fan her anger. She will rage with the desire to attack with a greater force."

"Then why do you want to do this?"

"For the same reason you would, to warn the algors. Tell me truthfully, now that you know what is happening, do you not feel honor bound to help the algors that stood with us at Sanctum?"

Ryson did not hesitate in answering. "Of course I do, but how will that solve what's happening in Dunop?"

"It won't, but as you say, that is as much a civil matter as anything else. We may not be able to solve the dwarves' problem, but at least we can save the algors from a slaughter. When we removed the sphere from Sanctum, we overcame the mistrust of every race. That was a proud moment. Now Yave threatens to soil that moment. She wishes to use Tun's death as a battle cry, to undo what we truly accomplished that night within Sanctum. That is something we can not allow. If there must be a battle between the dwarves and algors, let it be over the truth. Let it be over Yave's madness and her thirst for revenge, not over her delusions of what happened in Sanctum. They are not the same thing."

"I can't argue with you," Ryson admitted. "I just wish there was a way to stop the whole thing."

"For now, let us be content with warning the algors. That should be the first step in any case."

Again, Ryson pieced together the information given to him along with Lief's very presence within his house. "So you want me to help you find the algors?"

"You know the way. I would suggest we go to the sandstone edifice you described as their meeting place. The word can be spread there the fastest. I expect you still remember exactly how to get there."

"Of course I do, but maybe I should go alone. I'll move faster that way."

Lief's jaw tightened. "Are we going to have this argument again? Why do you insist on wasting our time with this? I owe as much to the algors as you. Why do you think you always have to go alone?"

"It's what I do," Ryson responded firmly. "Besides, the desert isn't a kind place for elves. Ask Holli. She'll tell you."

"She has told me," Lief responded indignantly. "And she will also accompany us."

The thought of Holli Brances broke Ryson's tension. He recalled his encounters with the elf guard. Above all, he imagined her stoic preparedness, her ability and willingness to deal with nearly any calamity. With Lief and Holli at his side before, they performed the impossible. They had removed the sphere from Sanctum and defeated Ingar. How much harder would it be to warn the algors and prevent a war? He thought he might share his own relief with his elf friend, and he considered a tactic which might remind them both of times when they overcame the truly insurmountable.

"I see. Well I know there's no point in arguing it any further. I know how stubborn you both can be. You never took my advice, even when you knew I was right. I might as well save my breath." Ryson paused. He hid a grin as he waited to see Lief's reaction. It had been a long time since he had spoken with the elf, and he wondered if Lief still swayed with the same emotional outbursts.

Lief surprised the delver. The elf seemed ready to give him a tongue lashing, but instead he held himself. He grunted as he swallowed his annoyance. He looked to Linda. "If you are truly going to marry this delver, I assume you want him safe?"

"Sometimes I wonder," Linda responded playfully. She remembered how Ryson spoke of Lief's outbursts. She had known her fiancé well enough to see that he was only trying to goad the elf into one of these flare-ups. She decided to help their guest instead.

Lief nodded to the delver. "Then I suggest you order him to have two elves escort him."

"So ordered," Linda laughed.

Lief eyed Ryson with a smug expression of victory. "There, you are now truly outnumbered."

Ryson surrendered. "I'm always outnumbered. You surprise me, Lief. You handled that almost diplomatically. What happened to your quick temper?"

"I have learned to control it, but only when I want to."

Ryson smiled broadly. "You know, it really is good to see you. You remind me of the good that came out of the sphere."

Lief bowed slightly. "Thank you. And you remind me that even the stubborn can be swayed."

Ryson grinned. "How about Holli? Where is she now?"

"She's waiting outside the wall."

"Really? Why didn't you bring her with you?"

"She would not feel comfortable enclosed within the walls. She would also find it difficult to hide her elf guard training. What do you think would happen if your human guards at the gate saw her constantly searching for hidden threats?"

"They'd get nervous."

Lief nodded in agreement. "And they would probably keep us. No, it was better to leave her where she is. She is scouting the perimeter."

Ryson brought a hand to his forehead. "Godson, I forgot about the serp. It was checking the walls with a group of goblins."

If you're worried about Holli, there is no need..." Lief began.

Ryson raised a hand to interrupt the elf's words. "I'm not worried about Holli. I was with her in the Lacobian desert. I know she can take care of herself. It's here, Burbon, that's the problem. You see, I'm the only delver here. After seeing that serp, I should be spending the next several days scouting for goblin movements."

Lief shook his head as if to emphasize that this was not truly possible. "But we must leave now, and we can not leave without you. We may not be able to find the algors. Holli believes she might find the way, if absolutely necessary, but she's not a delver scout. There is a distinct possibility we might get lost."

"I can't let you go alone," Ryson exclaimed. "Getting the algors involved is as much my responsibility as anybody's. And I wouldn't want to live with the thought of you getting lost out there."

"I wish I could give you some advice in this matter," Lief stated sincerely. "but the truth is the algors must be warned, and I can not risk losing even a day in waiting. I really don't know how quickly the dwarves plan to mobilize."

"I know, I know."

"Let Burbon's guard handle the goblins," Linda announced suddenly. It held the edge of an order.

Ryson looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

She did not back down from her statement.

"You can't handle everything yourself. If you're needed to warn the algors, then you have to go. You can't keep trying to do everything at once."

"I'm not trying to do everything at once," Ryson protested. "This is just a bad time. If I hadn't seen the serp, I probably wouldn't worry about leaving."

"Yes, you would. It's only been a couple of seasons, but I already know you too well. You think the safety of this town is your sole responsibility. Don't deny it."

"It is my responsibility," Ryson stated without hostility. He was not trying to argue the point, only stating a fact.

Linda remarked on truths of her own. "But not yours alone. There are others here that can protect Burbon. Sy, Enin, the guard. Sy can come up with scouts of his own. They won't find everything you could, but they'll let the goblins know we're waiting for them. I've learned enough about them from what you've told me that they won't attack."

Ryson could not argue the point. He looked to Lief. "She's probably right."

"Then is it settled?" the elf asked. "You will lead us to the edifice in the desert and together we will warn the algors?"

"I guess so."

"The sooner we leave the better," Lief nudged anxiously.

"I can leave now. I just have to make one stop at command and let Sy know what's going on."

Ryson looked to Linda with a somber smile, trying to mask his sadness in saying goodbye. "I'll be gone for at least five days, but you better count on seven or eight, maybe longer. I guess you're getting used to this by now."

"I'll never get used to it, but I'm learning to accept it." She grabbed him around the neck and embraced him tightly. "You take care of yourself."

"I will," he whispered and grudgingly moved away from her to the door. "I'll tell Sy to keep an eye on the house and the tavern."

Reluctantly, he turned from Linda and stepped out the door. He walked briskly down the path to the road, trying not to look back, trying to curb the growing emptiness which assaulted his being. His unease in leaving was a recently discovered sensation.

Before he committed himself to Linda, he found it so easy to simply up and leave, to go off into the wilderness without a care. Now, it was never easy. Now, an anchor existed. Leaving Linda caused him pain. A hole opened in his center, a hole which would not be filled as long as he was away from her.

Still, he remained a purebred delver, and the need to explore would always call to him. As he looked to the open skies to the southwest, he thought of the waiting desert and the algors. Surely, this would fill his craving for exploration. His steps carried him away from the front of his home, and he considered the contradiction of his predicament. Even as something called for him to stay, the gnawing desire to explore beckoned him to leave. Like a dog that pulled on the leash held by its beloved master, Ryson felt opposing forces exert themselves upon his soul. He wished to run free, but he did not want to leave that which he loved. In days to come, he would learn to appreciate this, see it as more of a blessing than a curse. Even now he began to understand the true triumph in his mixed feelings. Upon leaving this day, his delver soul would sing, but that part of himself which he gave to Linda would bring him back to Burbon. He finally had a true home.

He was silent in his thoughts for but a moment. He walked with the glide of his delver heritage, Lief at his side. He turned to his companion with the curiosity that was his nature. He wished to consider something else, something other than his leaving. He unleashed a general question in order to discover news from a friend he had not seen in over a season.

"So what's been happening with you? I've scouted some portions of Dark Spruce, the sections closest to here. I've met up with some elf guards. They seem to know who I am, but they don't like to talk about their camps. Security, I guess."

"Changes, good or bad, abound everywhere," Lief responded mysteriously. "My camp is no exception. The elves are learning to live with these changes. We face new threats, mostly in the way of river rogues and goblins."

"How are you getting on without Mappel?" Ryson did not want to stir any sadness with the memory of the loss, but he imagined the death of a camp's elder had to cause significant shifts.

Lief remained tight-lipped. "Mappel will always be remembered proudly. We learn to live with each loss."

He was less than convincing. There was something behind his words which perked the delver's curiosity. It was not sadness over Mappel's death, but something else, and Ryson pressed for the information.

"Does that mean the camp is more or less reacting normally to all this? I mean, whatever you might consider normal with the return of the magic and now this crisis with the dwarves?"

Lief side-stepped the issue by pointing out his own observations since entering Burbon. "With the events of Sanctum, we all had to expect that life in this land would never be the same. I look about this human town and see the proof for myself. The wall that surrounds this dwelling area is of new construction, as are the towers."

"That reminds me," Ryson interrupted. "I have to tell Sy of the need for a new tower. We seem to have a blind spot the goblins will be more than willing to utilize for their own advantage."

"That is exactly what I mean." Lief played upon the issue. "We must now concern ourselves with matters previously unimportant. I doubt there was a need for towers before the sphere was destroyed. Humans never had to deal with goblin raids. It is almost impossible to remember what things were like before the sphere breached its tomb. But it is like this all over. Every inhabitant of the land must learn the new way."

Lief stopped and bid Ryson to do the same. The elf turned about to make sure they were far from Linda and the delver's home. Seeing that no one was in ear shot, he spoke somberly. "I did not wish to bring this up in front of your betrothed. No need for her to worry, but you should be warned of the potential threat. Our objective is simple, but our path is not. As you know, to reach the algors we must cross the Lacobian. The desert is now a very dangerous place, very different from when you last crossed it to escort the algors home. It has become a place for novice sorcerers and wizards to practice their new found skill. As elves, we are more sensitive to the use of magic than perhaps any other race. Many have felt the surge of power in the direction of the Lacobian. We have sent scouts to the rim of the desert. They have all reported back with little information, but they remain certain that farther in the desolation, magic casters are honing their skills."

"Do you think they pose a threat to us?"

"Who knows for sure? They may ignore us. They may hide from us. Or, they may use us to further practice their powers. I would doubt any have had time enough to learn the arts to be truly dangerous, but there are always exceptions."

"I guess we'll just have to stay away from them."

"That is exactly why I have told you this. You must remain alert to this possibility, and although reaching the algors is our primary concern, I do not wish to stumble across a bold magic caster."

"I'll do my best to steer us clear."

"I know you shall."

The two moved on under Ryson's direction. They came to a square brick building with no sign. It was the command post and Ryson guided Lief inside.

Chapter 3

At the guard headquarters, Ryson moved past two soldiers with Lief at his side. The guards let them pass into Sy's office, each nodding in recognition at Ryson and taking long glances at the tall, thin stranger that walked with him.

Sy Fenden, captain of the guard, just dismissed a subordinate with new duties. He looked toward Ryson with an expression of welcome, unlike the first time he met the delver. But he, like everyone else in Burbon, had gained a new appreciation for Ryson now that the magic seeped through the land.

"Good day, Ryson." He made a quick nod to the stranger. "Friend of yours?"

The tone was pleasant and accommodating, but also somewhat demanding. Sy had maintained the duties of mayor and chief officer ever since the first goblin attack on Burbon. When the people no longer trusted the duly elected officials, they had turned to the town guard for protection, as well as leadership. This newcomer was unknown to him, and it was his duty to check all strangers.

"Hey, Sy!" Ryson greeted the captain as he stepped in the office, allowed Lief to move past, and then shut the door. "Yes, this is definitely a friend."

Friend or not, Lief immediately struggled with the environment. It was hard enough for an elf that lived in the wilderness of Dark Spruce to be surrounded by the fortified wall and the myriad of buildings of Burbon. Now, he stood in a room with no windows and only one door, which was now closed. He could deal with the caves of the dwarves easier than he could deal with this. This environment was manufactured, unnatural. Straight even lines, squared corners, perfectly aligned patterns of bricks; it was so different from the creative, nearly whimsical pattern of the intertwined branches of his true home. When the trees grew together, they did so with a strange balance between confusion and harmony. The construction of the humans tossed aside this balance and accented the straight, level and organized. It was disorienting to the elf.

Ryson sensed Lief's displeasure. One glance at the elf revealed the taut muscles, the eyes searching for an opening to the sky. If Ryson yelled out suddenly, he imagined Lief might jump to the ceiling. The delver took no pleasure in this and spoke quickly to hasten to the point of the meeting. He made introductions first.

"This is Lief Woodson. Lief, this is Sy Fenden."

Lief bowed in greeting.

Sy's eyes fell upon the elf with great interest. "Lief Woodson? The elf? The one from Sanctum?"

"The same," Ryson acknowledged.

Sy immediately threw out a firm hand. He was meeting an elf, a member of a race he never knew existed until a few seasons ago, but he was also meeting what he considered a soldier, a good soldier. Ryson reported every event which occurred within Sanctum. Lief performed beyond the call of duty, acted heroically in the face of true danger. That kind of bravery immediately earned Sy's respect, and he felt no hesitation in offering his praises.

"Ryson told us what happened in Sanctum. I can't say that I understand it all, but I've learned to trust what he says. You were one of the first to recognize the danger. You knew something had to be done. Everyone here is in your debt."

Again, Lief bowed. "Thank you, but there are no debts."

Sy would not allow his praise to be revoked. "Be that as it may, I know I want to thank you."

Once more, Ryson spoke quickly. "There are some new problems. It seems there are repercussions from our endeavor at Sanctum." Ryson searched for the words to explain. They were not easy to find. "It's difficult to explain, but it seems the dwarves ..., remember what I told you about Tun, the dwarf who died? Well, the dwarves aren't happy with the algors. They're apparently going to start a war."

To his credit, Sy showed no sign of doubt and did not ask for lengthy explanations. He immediately focused on his primary responsibility.

"What threat does it have upon Burbon?"

Ryson shrugged. "As far as I can tell, none."

"Wars often spread," Sy said with a knowing tone.

"But the dwarves live underground and the algors live in the desert. I think, at least for now, it's not a threat to us. Not to you anyway."

Sy picked up on the reference. "But it is to you?"

Ryson grudgingly nodded acceptance. "Lief and I are going to warn the algors. We'll be gone for a few days."

Now it was clear, clear why the delver was so uneasy. Sy considered the thought of defending Burbon without the delver's services. He knew there would be times when the delver wouldn't be available, but he was as wary of the coming dormant season as anyone else. At first, he grasped for options.

"Is this something that can wait?"

"No, the algors have to be warned as soon as possible."

"I was hoping that you might be able to wait until I get another delver from Connel."

"Too long," Ryson replied sadly.

Like a true strategist, a true commander, a true soldier, Sy accepted the situation. He nodded his head, punctuating his acceptance. "We'll be fine. We'll put men on horseback, send them out in patrols of four, armed to the teeth. I'll have to assume the goblins will know you're gone. They'll look to take advantage, I'll make sure there isn't any. I can put lookouts on the walls as well as the towers."

Ryson was about to explain the presence of the goblins in the hills when he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Sy did not even glance toward the entrance. "Come on in, Enin." And Enin opened the door and stepped through.

Sy felt the need to explain his apparent supersensory perception to the elf. "I know his knock."

"He has very good hearing," Ryson added. "Almost as good as mine."

Before Ryson could make an introduction, Enin's attention centered directly upon Lief. "This is an elf. Am I correct, am I correct?"

"Yes, Enin. You're correct. This is Lief Woodson, an elf."

Enin was delighted, not at meeting an elf for the first time, but for his own perceptions. "I knew I felt something strange. You came in earlier, right? Around noon time, right?"

Lief looked to Ryson with confusion.

"He's a practicing wizard," Ryson answered the unasked question. "He's been focusing on sensing races other than humans, kind of acting like an alarm system. He's been experimenting with spells so we can be prepared for goblin raids."

"It's not really a spell, not really," Enin interjected. "More of an aura I allow to surround myself. The magic seems to bend differently around different races, especially the ones that need the magic to walk on the land. You didn't bend the magic like that, but you were different, different like our delver friend, not the same as humans."

"He's like a spider. If something other than a human walks in his web, he'll know." Ryson then turned to Enin. "By the way, I came across a serp in the hills today. He was with six goblins and a shag. Did you sense any of that?"

Enin displayed unhappiness. "No, not at all."

"They probably didn't come close enough to the wall, but they were out there."

"Missed them, huh?" Enin rubbed his chin as his concentration seemed to fade out of the very room. He began to chatter, talking to Ryson at first but then only to himself, ignoring everyone around him. "I don't seem to have great range. I know when they get close to the wall, and certainly when they're inside, but not too far beyond. I wonder why? I guess I couldn't sense things forever. I'd go crazy. I'd sense every creature in the land, and then what good would I be? I'd just be confused. But I'd like to increase my range. I should be able to sense the hills. I wonder if I could come up with a spell which would energize me, give my senses a boost. No, that wouldn't be any good. Spells take energy. I would only be able to boost it for short periods. That might be helpful if we had an idea when they were coming, but it wouldn't be any good for general surveillance. Still, I should consider this, a spell which would increase the range of my senses. Even for a brief period, that might be a very useful spell. How would it go? Wind and earth? Air might even be better. Mix of a sight spell, expansion, and energy? I don't know. I better be careful with this one. I might accidentally send out a force wave."

"That would be helpful," Sy said sarcastically.

Enin heard Sy's voice but not his words. He snapped back to the here and now with a confused expression.

Ryson noted the scrutinizing stare of the elf upon the wizard. "You'll have to excuse him. He does that sometimes. He starts thinking of spells, and he just goes off into space."

"He should be careful," Lief replied with an edge. "Speaking out loud of possible spells, spells with power, is a dangerous thing."

Enin looked quizzically at the elf. Lief was tense. Was he tense at the presence of a wizard? No. He was tense at being in such a small room. Still, the elf was wary of him, Enin could sense that much. The elf apparently didn't like wizards, certainly not human wizards. Perhaps 'like' was too strong a word, but the elf certainly didn't trust Enin.

Enin faced a good deal of that from his human neighbors within Burbon, at least at first. Now, after he proved to be helpful, he earned their trust. But this was an elf. In Enin's studies, he learned that the elf was the most capable of seizing the magical energy. Why would an elf mistrust him? It hurt him, and he spoke openly of it.

"You don't trust me." A simple statement that revealed a hint of pain.

Lief frowned, irritated at being exposed by a novice magic caster. He responded sullenly. "The magic is new to you. It is dangerous to stumble about blindly trying to find new uses."

Enin felt no insult. Instead, he considered the possibility. Again, his attention slipped from the room. He spoke to himself, not to Lief, or anyone else. "Am I stumbling about? I don't think so, not really. I build from spell to spell. Each new one is a key to another and another. There is knowledge in that. Taking small steps on what is known. But what if I simply threw the keys away, or ignored them for once, simply began to alter the magic in some new untried way? That would be stumbling. I might make a major breakthrough. Then again, I might destroy myself or the entire town. I guess that's what they're doing in the desert, away from everyone else."

Sy shook his head. He allowed Enin's attention to remain on his personal questions as he spoke to Ryson of a more immediate danger. "You came across a serp in the hills? With goblins and a shag?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Scouting out the wall?" Sy demanded.

"Probably."

Sy grumbled, almost like the light growl of a panther.

Ryson tried to ease his worries. "I scattered the goblins. Disarmed a few and sent them running."

"They'll be back."

"Maybe, maybe not. I called out a warning to the serp before I left. I told him we'd double the guard and be ready for any raid."

"And we will," Sy accented. "What happened with the shag?"

"I can't take out a shag on my own," Ryson admitted slightly embarrassed.

"I never expected you to, but I still need to know what it was up to."

"It was with the serp."

"Not attacking?"

"Only me."

Sy folded his hands behind his back as he scanned the maps of the surrounding hills. "So the serp's got a shag on its side now."

"It seems."

"That's not very comforting."

"It's a big one though. It'll be easy to spot in the clearing."

"Well, if Enin didn't sense them, they didn't get too close. I still don't like it."

Ryson finally struck on the true point of his visit. "I think they were looking for a blind spot. And I think they might have found one. One of the reasons I came here was to warn you to build another tower."

"Where?" Sy asked firmly.

"Southeast corner of town."

"Really? I can't remember them ever coming from the east?"

"The blind spot is more to the south. We need the angle to cover it."

Sy rubbed his chin, considered the whole of the news brought by the delver. "I'll have to take a look at that. I don't think there'll be a problem with building another tower, especially if it helps keep the goblins away, but what bothers me is that shag. What's a shag doing with a serp and a pack of goblins? I though shags ate goblins. And even if we build a sixth tower, a shag might not care if we see it coming or not. If it wants to attack, it may run right up to the gate."

"I don't think it was there to attack. It looked like it was just guarding the serp."

"Maybe, maybe not. Dealing with goblins is one thing; dealing with a hoard of shags is another."

"I only saw one." Ryson countered.

Sy remained wary. "That may just be the first of many. The serp may be tired of being beaten back from the wall. It may have decided it's time to bring in a bigger weapon. I want to take a look. If you're not going to be here the next few days, I need to be extra careful. You don't mind do you? You can point out where they were, and you can tell me anything else I need to know about this dwarf-algor war."

These words seemed to snap Enin to attention. "A war? Between the algors and the dwarves?"

"That's what Ryson tells me," Sy answered then turned his attention back to the delver. "You have a quick moment before you leave? I just want to go up on a tower and you can point out where they were."

Ryson looked to Lief. "It's the least I should do. I'm not going to be able to scout for them for the next few days. Do you mind?"

Lief showed no reservation. In fact, the thought of leaving the room for a tower appealed to him. It would not be exactly like climbing the trees of Dark Spruce, but it would be close.

The four quickly exited the office and the command post all together. Lief breathed deeply the open air. The buildings that lined the streets they walked still seemed to close upon him, but he was at last free of the tiny enclosed room.

They spoke of the algors and the dwarves as they walked briskly to the southwestern tower. Sy allowed the guard to remain as the four made the climb to the elevated platform. He did not always openly offer information to his soldiers, but he never deliberately hid things from them, either. He spoke of the dilemmas forthrightly, unconcerned that the lookout would overhear.

"Where did you come across the serp?"

Ryson pointed deep into to the hills. "There, just beyond the third hilltop from the clearing."

It was a good distance away. Sy nodded to the budding wizard. "That's why you didn't sense them Enin."

"Yes, that is rather far."

Sy gazed out over the rolling hills.

"And the shag was with the serp?"

"Not the whole time," Ryson admitted. "I found shag tracks on the top of that third hill. I believe it was acting like a lookout."

"So the serp is using some of our own methods."

"It would seem. Anyway, when I first spotted the serp, the goblins were with it, but not the shag. I chased the goblins away. When I came back to get the serp, the shag was ready to defend."

"It does sound like a personal guard. And you saw no signs of another shag?"

"None."

"That makes me feel a little better. Now, where's this blind spot?"

Ryson pointed to the edge of the clearing directly south of Burbon. "See the base of that hill, the one that extends furthest into the clearing? What if they crouched below it? At what point would they be visible to this tower?"

"They wouldn't, but the tower over the south gate would have a direct view of them."

Ryson shook his head. "It's too high. The lookout would have to lean out over the railing to see below him at that close range."

"And if he did, he'd take an arrow between the eyes," Sy acknowledged.

"Exactly."

Sy tapped his fingers together. "They'd get right to the gate. It's surprising it took so long for them to find it."

"Maybe this is a new serp. I haven't seen one with a shag guard before."

"Not a good time for you to be leaving."

"I can't do much about that."

"I know, I'm just reminding myself of what I'm up against." Sy looked over to the southeast corner of the wall. "You're right about the new tower. That'll cutoff the blind spot, but it's going to take a few days to build. I'm going to have to keep guards outside the gate until then. I don't like it, but I have no choice."

"A spider!" Enin blurted out.

The rest of the men upon the tower gazed at him questioningly. Enin ignored them, whispered confusing words, until Sy called for his attention.

"Enin? Enin!"

"Huh? Oh sorry, I was just thinking out loud."

"I know. What were you thinking?"

"Ryson compared me to a big spider. That's the answer."

Sy shook his head. "Your senses are always helpful, but it won't be enough in this case. You won't feel them until they get close to the wall, by then it'll be too late. I have to be warned when they get close to the clearing, not the wall."

"They won't get to the wall," Enin asserted. He stopped his explanation and again stared out to the edge of the clearing. He spoke as if he were alone on the tower platform. "Spider's web, spider's trap, spider's warning. It's all the same. Make the trap where the flies are, or where the flies can be caught. A binding spell, like a force field. I've done that before. I need to alter it slightly, not a shield but a trap, a web. Think of a spider. How to focus the energy? Yes, that's it, that's definitely it."

Without another word, Enin raised his hands. He looked first to the sky then to the blind spot as defined by Ryson. His fingers curled, pulling in the magical energies that flowed freely in the very air that surrounded them all. He tapped into his inner power as well, the energy he allowed to fill his core. He became a siphon and a conduit, mixing the power of himself with the free flowing magic. Two intertwining circles of a pale white hue formed around his wrists.

Ryson watched with great interest. He had seen wizards cast spells before; after all he had battled Ingar upon Sanctum. Still, this scene filled him with wonder. A seemingly normal human was pulling power from the very air. When he was young, he thought of magicians as entertainers that shuffled cards with extraordinary skill. Now, now they were powerful men and women with the ability to control energy of an unknown magnitude.

The sight was awe-inspiring, perhaps even more so for the elf that noted the scene with guarded amazement. The white light and the spheres indicated a skill he could not have expected. He said nothing, but the significance of such power was not lost upon him.

Enin kept his attention focused upon his spell. He ignored those that watched even as he could sense their growing amazement. As the circles of energy swirled, he redirected his hands at the base of the hill to the south. The rings of power flew from him, flipping over and over as they danced through the sky. They hit the ground at the point of the blind spot. Hundreds of long strands exploded from the circles, forming a giant web of glowing white. It remained visible as its whiteness clashed with the green and brown hill grass.

Enin nodded in approval. "It's visible in the day, maybe even at night. I don't know how much it will glow. It won't matter. If they see it, they'll know their blind spot is no longer feasible. If they don't, we'll have a few more prisoners."

"They won't be able to break through it?" Sy questioned.

"They could. It's not the strongest spell in the land. They'd be able to cut through it with their short swords, but not while crouching down and hiding from this tower. It will take a little more effort than that."

"What about the shag? If a goblin can cut through it, it won't stop a shag for a moment."

Ryson offered his own understanding. "A shag won't be able to hide behind the slope of that hill. It's too big."

Sy nodded. A shag would be too big to utilize the blind spot. The lookout from this tower would spot it. Only the slight goblin could truly use the edge of the hill for cover. The web would work. He reveled in the victory. It was not always the actual physical struggle which turned the advantage. More often, it was the battle of strategy, the deployment of forces, obstacles, and resources. Confident in the overall approach of the web, Sy focused on the details.

"How long will it last?"

Enin closed his eyes. He could feel the web; it was still part of him. "Half a day. I can cast another spell tonight and again tomorrow morning."

"It won't tire you out?"

"It doesn't require a great deal of energy to cast."

Sy turned to Ryson with a greater sense of comfort. "It appears as if we have solved our blind spot problem. They might even see the web if they make another scout of the wall. Actually, I hope they do. It'll let them know we're aware of their plans. If they had just seen us constructing the tower, they might have attacked to press their advantage. Now, they'll find out they've lost that edge."

"You'll still send out scouts?" Ryson questioned, but he already knew the answer. Sy was too careful, too attentive to subtle changes to rest upon a single solution.

"Absolutely. I'm not worried about the blind spot anymore, but there's still a serp out there with a shag doing its bidding. That still makes me nervous. I'll send out scouts at random intervals."

"Tell them to scatter their formation if they go in the high grass," Ryson advised. "The shag was covered with grass to blend in. I didn't see it until it stood up. If your scouts cluster together, it might surprise them all at once. They've got to leave room so they can cover each other. And it was hard to gain its scent, the serp’s own sorcery I think."

"Amazing. Camouflage magic," Sy gave his adversary its due credit. "We're going to have to come up with a way to defeat that."

"I'll learn to smell them," Ryson stated with determination. "But for now, tell them to look for thicker than usual clumps in the grass. That's what I'll be doing."

Lief ignored the continued conversation of strategy. After the wizard's display, such considerations seemed irrelevant. The glowing white light from Enin's web consumed his thoughts. Such power. If used properly, it would be enough to stop an army of goblins. If underestimated, it could wipe out the town as well as the landscape before him.

From the tower platform, the elf could also see over the rolling hills to the south and beyond the Fuge River. Dark Spruce Forest was clear in his sights. He felt the trees call to him, but he also remembered the pressing need of the algors. He would have to serve them before returning to the forest.

"Ryson? It is time for us to go," the elf professed lightly.

The delver nodded grimly. A pang of guilt bit at his core. From the tower he could see the roof of his home, as well as the peaked second story of the Borderline Inn. Was Linda back at work, worrying about when he'd return? He was already worrying about her. He made a final request of Sy.

"Keep an eye on Linda for me, would you Sy? I know she can take care of herself, but it'd make me feel better. Thinking about that shag has me as worried as you."

"Not a problem. I'll see to it, but you keep your mind on yourself. If you're going out into the desert, you need to stay alert. I can spare you for a few days, but this town needs you back."

"You needn't fear too much," Lief replied with almost too much confidence for Sy's liking, but then again the captain of the guard had never met Holli Brances. Lief explained. "Another elf will be accompanying Ryson and myself, an elf guard. There are few that can match her talents."

"That's no boast," Ryson echoed. "Holli's going with us."

"Another that was with you at Sanctum?" Sy now understood Lief's confidence. "Very well. Then all I can say is hurry back."

Chapter 4

Once beyond Burbon's wall, Lief took the lead. He and the delver moved on foot, remaining on the lonely road that passed through the south gate. They passed several hills before Lief let out a shrill whistle. A similar response came from his left.

Ryson's eyes immediately honed in upon the source. His sharp vision detected trace hints of Holli's presence while she remained crouched in the tall grass. Upon his sighting, she stood erect, though carefully and slowly. She checked each direction before stepping lively but gracefully toward the open road. She met Ryson with a smile.

"Good day to you, delver!"

The near carefree ease in her welcome surprised him. He was prepared for a more stoic greeting, a greeting that suited a cautious elf guard. Instead, she appeared more than simply good-humored to see the delver. She seemed almost at peace, and this contrasted sharply with Ryson's memory of her. Though surprised, he managed to return the hello. "And a good day to you, Holli. You look well."

And she did, well and happy, and also content with her surroundings, and that also contrasted with his memories of her. As an elf guard, she had always seemed far from at ease; always watchful, always preparing for some unseen and unknown threat. But now, she appeared much more relaxed. Her eyes still darted about, still surveyed the land in all directions, but not with the same diligence that Ryson remembered.

To the delver, this change was beyond out of character, it was unwarranted, especially considering the influx of new dangers. Since the release of the magic, he himself was far more careful. Whenever he was outside the walls of Burbon, his senses jumped to high alert. He became as zealous in uncovering danger as he remembered the elf guards that protected their camps in Dark Spruce.

The guard that epitomized this behavior, Holli Brances, was now, however, nothing like the cautious fox he remembered. He could not guess as to what might have caused this transformation in her behavior. Ryson's curiosity got the better of him and he blurted out the question.

"Are you still an elf guard?"

"Of course," she replied simply. She found the question almost humorous. She waited expectantly for an explanation.

Ryson remained confused. "But you’re different… I don’t know, less alert I guess?"

Holli tilted her head. "I still remain concerned with possible threats, if that's what you mean. I always will." As if to accent this point, her eyes darted about the landscape.

The quick glance, however, did little to alleviate Ryson's suspicions. Something was different about the guard and his delver curiosity pushed him to know more. "I don't know. You seem much more at ease than I remember."

"Right now, I am at ease. I believe that all serious threats have left this area."

Ryson recalled that he encountered the serp and the shag several hilltops to the west. Could she know of them, were they still about?

"What threats?"

Holli responded with certainty. "A serp, a shag, and some goblins."

"So you know about them?"

"They were within shouting distance a short while ago."

"I know," Ryson admitted. "I broke up the goblins, but the shag and serp forced me away."

"They have left."

"You're certain?"

"Absolutely."

"How do you know?" Of course, he suspected. He felt a presence around her that was akin to the aura which surrounded Enin.

"The magic has opened many secrets to those who know how to use it. I can now sense the presence of such creatures as they approach."

It was as he thought. Holli was much like Enin in her ability to touch the magic. He wondered how far she had gone with this new power. "So you're casting spells now?"

Holli shook her head, almost defensively. "I am not a magic caster. I am an elf guard, and my duties prevent me from conducting such activities. Casting spells is a dangerous activity and requires time for study. I have no such time, and my responsibility to the safety of those I protect remains paramount. Still, there are other ways to use the magic other than simply casting spells. It remains an energy that can be harnessed in many ways."

She appeared certain of this to the extent of knowledgeable. Ryson had little understanding in the matter of magic, and being a delver, he pressed for answers.

"How so?"

Holli chuckled harmlessly. She understood all too well the delver's curiosity. She endeavored to quench it for him. "Think of fire. It can be used for heat or for light. Lamps surround your human town to ward off threats even as pots of stew boil over stoves and hearths. Magic is no different. It all depends on your need. I don't use spells, but the magic within me heightens what I can sense. It's not sight or smell, it's beyond that."

Ryson nodded. He made it clear to the guard that he understood her explanation. "I know. There's a human wizard I've become associated with. He's also learned to sense the presence of creatures that use magic."

"He casts white magic, with spheres," Lief acknowledged with a nod to Holli.

The elf guard looked back at the walls of Burbon.

Ryson missed the underlying importance of such matters. Instead, he focused on the use of magic itself. "He's been able to warn us of goblins that sneak through our first line of defense. It has become quite helpful."

"It will be even more helpful when we cross through the Lacobian desert," Lief stated with an impatient edge. "The algors await us and need warning. We should not delay."

He began to move southward along the desolate dirt road as Ryson and Holli turned to follow. A bridge over the Fuge River was in sight as were a few trees of Dark Spruce. Lief stepped at a quick pace, a near trot for humans. He contemplated the distance to the forest. Before long they would be able to move among the trees, but only for a while. The section of forest which separated these grassy hills from the rocky terrain which preceded the desert was not at all wide. He frowned at the thought of trekking through the rock canyons and even worse, the Lacobian desert. He grumbled a complaint out loud.

"We should have brought horses."

Ryson corrected him. "It wouldn't have helped. I'm sure you want to climb through the trees when we reach the forest. What would we do with the horses?"

"I was thinking more of the canyons and the desert."

"They'd help in the canyons, I can't argue that, but not in the desert. I can get enough water for us, but not for three horses as well. We'd have to bring a great supply of water for them and that would weigh them down. No, we'll be better off on foot."

Lief's impatience to move on was but a temporary distraction from Ryson's questions for the elf guard. The delver's thoughts focused back on Holli's words about the magic. If she could sense creatures that used the energy, she would be as useful as Enin in uncovering threats. He looked to the river and thought of the river rogues, dangerous creatures, but creatures that apparently needed magic to walk this land. Again, as they moved toward the bridge, he voiced his questions.

"Do you sense anything from the river? Any river rogues?"

"No, the path is clear."

"And you're sure of this?"

"Absolutely."

This was interesting. If elf guards could indeed detect the presence of other creatures, it changed battle tactics. He mulled over the possible effects as he voiced yet another question.

"If you can now sense threats well in advance, doesn't that change everything? I mean, it sounds like surprise attacks are a thing of the past. Take us moving over this bridge as an example. If you could sense a river rogue before it gets near us, we could never be surprised."

"That is exactly why I am more relaxed with our journey at this moment. Do you think I would allow Lief to walk so carelessly forward if I thought he might be walking into an ambush?"

Lief grumbled under his breath.

Holli smiled at Ryson. "He is not as attuned to the magic as I am, that is why he is so irritable."

"So it's different for each elf?"

"Some can not sense anything," Holli replied.

Ryson pondered how that might change things. If some elves were less sensitive than others, then there was still a chance for surprise. Then again, the proper utilization of sensitive elves would eliminate this problem. He spoke openly of his theories over such tactics. "Still, if I understand this correctly, it would remain possible to completely eliminate surprise attacks. If elves sensitive to magic are used as scouts and guards and escorts, it would be near impossible for an elf party to fall victim to a raid. To me, that seems to change things drastically. I mean, why would I rely on stealth if I knew that it was impossible to move in without being detected. As far as battles go, it almost comes down now to a point of pure force. Whatever army is the biggest and strongest will win. Isn't that right?"

"Not exactly." Holli walked with ease in her step, but she still made intermittent surveys of their surroundings. Her eyes would dart about the hills and across the river as if she only trusted her new perception to a marked degree. Even as she stepped over the wooden bridge, she glanced at possible hiding spots for river rogues. No threats existed but she explained both her actions and her statement. "First, there is a limit to the range. Yes, I can sense things close by, but an army of goblins may still use stealth to amass great numbers for an attack. I might sense them before we stumble upon them, but then again, it may be too late."

"I can understand that," Ryson allowed. "It's the same for the human wizard I told you about. He can't sense the hills, but he can sense goblins before they reach the wall, so it isn't a total surprise."

"That may be true," Holli countered, "but there are some threats which can not be sensed through the magic. Most of these are threats which existed before you destroyed the sphere. While it's easy to detect the presence of a creature which needs the magic to exist in the land, like a shag or a serp, it is much more difficult to detect the presence of others. The dwarves, for example, are the most resistant to magic, thus I would have no warning of their presence if I simply relied on the perception of magic. It is nearly the same for the algors. Unlike elves and many humans, the algors don't constantly store magical energy within themselves. When they cast spells, they must either take it directly from the air, or spend much time and energy in absorbing the power. Thus, it is difficult to detect the presence of dwarves and algors based solely on this method. As for humans and delvers, some are potent with magic while some are resistant. I sense that you would have the ability to hold much energy within you. You could probably learn to cast many spells."

"I don't think I want to." Ryson responded almost too quickly.

Holli saw sense in that answer. "Right now, that is probably wise. Casting spells remains a dangerous activity."

As Ryson considered the point, Lief stepped up to the welcoming cluster of trees that formed the outer boundary of Dark Spruce Forest. Without reservation, he nimbly jumped to a branch and waited for Holli and Ryson to join him. The elf guard also took to the trees, but slightly off to the left so as to spread their formation. Ryson did not join them.

"Will you not travel the trees with us, delver?" Lief asked. "I recall you handled this form of travel quite well."

"Thank you, but I think I'll stick to the ground," Ryson responded. He looked about with grave uncertainty. "I know the forest is home to you, but I've learned it hides many things now. I'll feel a lot more comfortable on the ground. Besides, I can scout from down here while Holli uses the advantage of height."

"He's right," Holli stated in agreement. "It's better if we stay spread out."

"As you both wish, I just want to reach the algors as quickly as possible."

Indeed, the three moved quickly through this section of Dark Spruce. The trees were not clustered or woven tightly together here. They spread themselves apart. They remained close enough for the elves to step or leap from one to another, but far enough apart to allow a good deal of sunshine to break through the overhead branches. The shifting sunbeams bathed the ground with warmth and the forest seemed to welcome them all. The elves embraced this part of their journey, happy to be leaving the human town behind.

Their progress slowed only once, to avoid a small party of goblins. Ryson caught their scent just as Holli sensed the disturbance in the magical aura that surrounded her. It was a small party, not even enough for a suitable raid, a handful out scavenging for food. The three virtually ignored the foul fiends with a wave of disgust. A slight detour served to avoid hostilities, and elf and delver were soon passing out of Dark Spruce. Much sooner, in fact, than Lief would have wished, the elves had to give up the trees to step over the rock hard ground of the sloping canyons.

Here, away from the trees, Holli's regiment of awareness increased. She returned to a state of wariness which typified the elf guard. The terrain, hilly and rocky, offered cover for shags and other potential monsters. She looked carefully for such hazards, but the true threat of this place stemmed from its proximity to the Lacobian desert.

The Lacobian had become the training ground for the most ambitious wizards and sorcerers, and there was no telling what terrors might have been created. Throughout elflore, stories existed of sorcerers summoning terrible creatures. If such creatures were again brought to this land, they would find this rocky place a welcome hunting ground and sanctuary. Rumors abounded of both dark and light magic, of spell casting pushed to the limit, and of monsters not even recorded in the legends or in elflore.

The return of magic and its current use by power hungry novices, brought hard reality to the land. Had there not been such a span of ages between the disappearance of the magic and its unavoidable return, perhaps there would remain knowledge of how to use it. But no such knowledge seemed to exist, and burgeoning wizards were left to depend on trial and error. Rumors might have spread out of fear and misunderstanding, but they were born out of disheartening truth, a truth which Holli could not afford to ignore.

With such awareness, the elf guard turned her focus on uncovering all possible dangers. Uncertain of how the ambitious use of magic might affect her own ability, she began to divide her reliance over all her senses. Her eyes began to dart along the rugged rocks with greater diligence. She inspected the ground, searching for the smallest indication of danger. She listened to the wind with near constant attention, and she began to rely upon other resources as well. She knew the delver's senses far exceeded her own, and she called for him to use them.

"Ryson. This place is dangerous. I must ask you to use all your skill to detect anything which seems out of the ordinary. If you sense anything at all, please advise me."

"Of course."

The coolness of the harvest forest gave way to a harsh, biting southern wind. The temperature rose as the sight of the Lacobian grew closer. The rocky hills sucked in the heat like a hungry infant. As their footsteps began to fall on sandy rock and the last traces of Dark Spruce had long faded behind them, it felt more like the height of the dry season, as if the coming dormant season was nothing but a distant thought. A wavering haze formed in the distance, compromising his long range surveillance.

To both his relief and his disappointment, he found nothing in these canyons, only the day old tracks of a shag. He pointed the tracks out to Holli and she nearly dismissed them completely. At Ryson's urgings, they circumvented a bluff he believed might hold its lair, but the elf guard appeared more concerned with distant, uncovered threats than the existence of a shag.

Ryson knew exactly where he needed to lead them; the sandstone mountain that the algors used as a meeting place. He had made this trek before, and once a delver discovered a path, it was never forgotten. He could have led them to the sandstone edifice blindfolded, moving solely on memory of a trip taken over a season ago, but instead, he remained watchful.

In his travels, the delver had hoped he might find signs of a few wayward algors. He recalled how individuals would break from the community and set off in the desert alone, isolating themselves in order to find their individual identity. All algors needed to be warned of the impending attack of the dwarves, and Ryson was well aware of the way they freely shared information. If he could find a straggler here and there, it would only help their cause. With each algor told, the warning would spread that much more quickly. He looked for tracks of such algors, solitary travelers hoping in some mad fashion to find their own individualism in the lonely desert, but he found nothing. Not unexpected. The algors lived at the heart of the desert, surrounded completely by the hot, shifting sand. It would probably take time to reach a point where they might actually find signs of a single traveler.

Ryson looked to the sky. The sun was low in the western horizon and there was still a great distance to travel. He considered their surroundings and their circumstances. He knew enough of the desert not to be fooled by the current warmth. When the sun dropped beyond the horizon, the air would grow cold. There would be a need for shelter, probably even a fire. The rocky canyons, unfortunately, were now almost completely out of sight. If they were to camp now, they would have to do so among a group of cacti in the sand, not the best shelter in the land, but it would have to do.

As he scoured the landscape for the best site available, he wondered if Lief and Holli would even allow making camp. They might urge him to move onward through the night. If such was their wish, he would certainly be able to continue. The desert was taking a greater toll upon the elves than it was upon him. In fact, he would have rather kept moving. Still, he had to offer the proposal.

He was about to make his proposition when slightly shifting sand stole his attention. He looked to his companions to call out a warning. Holli's attention was also fixed upon the disturbance. Lief, for the moment, was not yet aware, but the delver's call brought him to the ready.

"The sand's moving."

"I see it," Holli whispered. "Spread out!"

Both Lief and Ryson obeyed. They formed three points of a triangle around the section of disturbed sand. All movement stopped. Even the sand settled back into place. Holli stood motionless, closest to the point of their focus.

Ryson whispered another warning. "There's still movement down there. I can feel it."

"What kind of movement?"

"Hard to say. Tunneling maybe. But whatever it is, there's more than one. I think maybe a dozen different sources."

"How close to the surface?"

"Not very. Do you think it's goblins?"

"Doubtful."

Ryson thought of the magic, how when it was first released from the sphere it mutated and created terrible monsters. Anything at all could be waiting down there preparing to attack. He posed the possibility in one word to Holli.

"Magic?"

"I sense nothing."

"Wait, I hear something. Voices. They're coming up."

"Swords!" Holli ordered and all three drew their weapons.

Ryson's sword, the Sword of Decree, revealed its enchantment as it magnified the dying sunlight. The glow drenched the sand before them. The white sand sparkled as it again began to shift, this time with far greater force, and the increased light served to magnify the disturbance. Large amounts of sand swirled downward, as if falling through an hour glass. A crater formed as more and more of the sand began to fall away into some unseen hole.

Ryson looked deep into the heart of the gyrating disorder. Like a swirling whirlpool, the sand churned faster as it neared the center of the crater. The delver could only wonder as to how much sand would disappear into this ever-widening chasm.

In a mere instant, Ryson saw that it was not natural forces that had opened the hole, but the greatest miners in all the land. The whirlpool effect was broken as a growling dwarf shattered the surface.

Sand sailed in every direction even as it continued to spill downward into an ever widening expanse. The first dwarf jumped clear, then another, and another. They bustled up from the sand like angry ants ready for war. Armored chest plates sparkled as richly as the desert sand. Reinforced with jewels, this armor could not be cut by elf swords. Though prepared to strike, for their axes were in their stout, firm hands, the first dwarves to appear revealed surprise in seeing the elves and the delver.

Other dwarves surfaced. Ten in number now stood upon the surface of the sand. They wore goggles made of tinted gems to protect their vision from the desert light, but their eyes widened at the unexpected sight of the elves.

The shock spread. Lief fumbled with his words. "What is going on here?"

The dwarves said nothing. They had expected to attack algors. They crouched in battle readiness, but they held their position.

Holli saw the situation clearly. She held tight to her sword, but dropped it from its ready position. "They thought we were algors. Isn't that true?"

The dwarves did not feel the need to explain such things to an elf. They might have simply retreated back down their tunnel, had one not voiced a single suspicion.

"Spies."

"Nonsense," Holli responded firmly.

The accusing dwarf did not think so. "Why else would they be out here? An alliance with the algors."

Nothing more was needed. The situation quickly boiled over. The dwarves advanced, considering the three as enemies.

"Fire upon you fools!" Lief admonished the attackers. "You have no cause for this."

The dwarves ignored him. They broke into three separate groups, each to deal with an individual enemy. Two groups of three set upon Holli and Ryson while a foursome moved to surround Lief. They moved laboriously, struggling with the shifting sand at their feet. They plodded forward without speed or dexterity. Each step was forced, as if each movement had to be considered separately.

Lief and Holli also grappled with the terrain, but not to the same degree. Their bodies were slight, lean and long. They remained able to leap and side-step, whereas the dwarves sank deep into the soft footing like lead weights. Still, the elves were at ground level and in close quarters, not an enviable position when battling dwarves.

The dwarves took this to heart and believed that their superior numbers and strength would lead them to easy victory despite the shifting sand beneath them. They swung their axes almost wildly. Their short arms allowed only a limited reach and they were unable to connect, but they could see the elves tiring quickly under the heat of the desert. Those that focused on Holli and Lief became near ferocious in their attacks.

For those that attacked the delver, they found quick frustration. The delver moved with ease over the sand, moved with such speed and precision the dwarves were left swinging and grasping at open air. Ryson dodged each attack as if he were a dry leaf in the heart of a tornado. The dwarves soon lost all perspective of direction, and then, all hope.

Ryson would not use his sword upon the dwarves, but he would not let them callously attack him or his friends. He focused his attack on the dwarves' goggles. In a blur of motion, his agile hand speared toward the face of each attacker. He ripped the protective glasses away and exposed the dwarf eyes to the bright desert sun. With each assault, a dwarf was rendered near helpless as they jammed their eyelids shut to block the burning light that was magnified by the desert sand.

After blinding those that attacked him, he turned his attention on assisting the elves. He darted across the sand like a hurricane, his gleaming sword a streak of lightning. He continued his assault, relieving each dwarf of his goggles.

The dwarves could not fight him. With or without their glasses, they could not see him. They could not stop him. Their axe blades sliced harmlessly through the air. In the end, the lot of them were left shielding their eyes with their hands and unable to strike.

In frustration, humiliation, one called for an immediate retreat. None argued. They dove for the darkness of the hole without hesitation.

Lief appeared willing to stop them or to follow, but Holli's command held him.

"Let them go. We can't stop all of them and prisoners will only slow us."

Lief's anger burned. He yelled into the entrance of the tunnel. "Attack us will you? You had no cause. Fire upon you! Fire upon Yave!" He kicked sand into the opening as if to lash out with one last insult.

Ryson looked to Holli. "They've already started their attacks," he stated grimly.

"Hard to know the extent," she responded simply as if measuring the weight of the dwarf battle party.

"I noticed traces of blood on their axes. They must have already inflicted casualties," Ryson pointed out.

"Yes, but we do not know how many."

"One is too many."

Holli voiced simple logic. "We can't undo what has already occurred."

"But we can do all we can to prevent more," Ryson pressed.

"That's why we're here."

"I was going to ask if you wanted to make camp, but I can't recommend that now," Ryson stated almost harshly. "We have to reach the sandstone mountain as soon as possible."

"I agree."

Nothing more was said.

Lief gave one last angry glance into the dwarf tunnel. Even now the opening was fading from sight, the sand shifting to cover the hole. It turned first into a depression, then the wind swept away even this last trace. Ryson ignored the change. He moved forward, leading the two elves as quickly as possible to the place where he knew he would find the algors.

Chapter 5

Two goblins perched themselves high upon a hilltop due west of Burbon. They watched two figures exit the south gate of the human outpost, two which were quickly joined by a third. One they recognized immediately; the delver. The newcomers were unknown to them. The diminutive monsters waited near breathless, standing motionless in the high grass. They knew of the great senses of the cursed delver. And though he remained a great distance away from their position, they feared the scout might spot them if they made the slightest disturbance. Their interest grew as the delver and his companions crossed the Fuge River. As the range between the two groups increased, one of the goblins found the courage to speak, though in a whisper so as not to alert those they watched.

"They cross the river."

"I see," the second muttered in a low guttural voice.

"They move to the trees."

The second did not respond. It merely watched carefully, its eyes widening. The thick, puffy skin that surrounded its face appeared to bulge. When it saw Lief and Holli leap to the trees, it spat, and finally spoke with even greater harshness.

"He is with elves! We must report this."

The two goblins turned and descended the hill, trounced through the tall grass with vehemence. The two small creatures cursed as they despised the thick hill brush for its very existence. They moved northwest, away from the river, away from Burbon.

One moaned an unintelligible sound as they moved upon the base of an indistinguishable hill. They stepped up to a hidden path that led to a cave entrance. They moved forward, past a goblin guard, and began descending a long tunnel.

Again, the eyes of the goblins widened. The thick rubbery skin that swelled at their cheeks and around their eyes sagged. The thin wispy gray hair that topped their heads shuddered in the breeze of the tunnel, typifying their own feelings of dread as they entered this godless place.

Lunacy. For two goblins to enter this den willingly, it bordered on something beyond insanity. This was a shag's lair, the tunnel carved out by the massive, powerful paws of a monster that consumed goblins as appetizers. However, this shag, a giant shag, was now supposedly on their side, an ally under the same commander, and the master now used this sanctuary as its own home.

Each goblin tried to ignore the claw marks on the sides of the tunnel, but their apprehensive glances were impossible to deny. Their steps, labored at first, faltered as they closed upon a hollowed area large enough to fit a small goblin platoon. The smell of death was overpowering as the shag came into view. The monster glared at the goblins, but made no move.

The goblins froze.

The leader of both reclined upon the skin of a river rogue, a testament to the shag's strength and hunting prowess. A shag that was large enough to prey upon river rogues was indeed a powerful and dangerous creature, a threat to all except the serp that could control it.

The serp stirred from his rest. He had named himself Sazar, after an ancient leader, a chieftain from the legends. Sazar ignored the shag. The goblins could never discern if this was confidence in his own ability to control the monster, or brazen stupidity. He focused upon the goblins. He took long moments to analyze the impish monsters. He looked beyond their fear of the shag, beyond their panic of standing in its lair. He saw their confusion. They had left their post. They would not do so unless they had something important to report. He looked deep into their chaotic, twisted minds. He could almost see what they had seen. One word became very clear to him.

"Elves." The word sprung from the serp in a soft, soothing tone.

The goblins would not dare to question their master, but they stood in awe at the revelation. Both began to speak almost simultaneously about the incident.

"Yes, elves. They left with the delver, the one that attacked us," one clamored.

The other continued. "They crossed the river together. They entered the forest."

Sazar held up a hand ordering silence. The goblins obeyed without dissent and Sazar began to ask quick, pointed questions without interruption.

"Did they appear to explore the lands as they traveled?"

"No." Both goblins responded instantly.

"Did the elves take to the trees?"

"Yes, that is how we knew they were elves."

"Was anyone else with them, did any humans follow?"

"Not that we saw. No one came through the gates."

The serp again searched the minds of the goblins, reached in to find any shred of doubt in their answers. There was none.

"So they were not on a scouting mission, and they were obviously ready to travel deep into the forest. Unless they planned to meet more elves in the trees, they planned to go alone. No human could keep up with elves or a delver in Dark Spruce. Hmmmm…two elves and the only delver in Burbon making a trip into Dark Spruce. Interesting."

The serp looked into the small fire that provided the only light in this cave. His snake-like eyes followed the smoke that drifted up through the air vent above it. The smoke would never be seen from the outside, for the serp used thick handfuls of shag hair to act as filters throughout the vent, a vent which twisted and turned and opened upon the backside of the hill. His thoughts danced with the flames. He spoke openly of them. The bitter cold of his dark soul was hidden by the warm soothing tone of his voice.

"So the delver has left, left with two elves. Why would he leave? He is the only delver in Burbon, and he knows we are here. It must be important for him, otherwise he would wait. And why would he leave with elves? Elves and humans remain apart. These are the first elves to come to Burbon since the release of the magic. What would the elves want with humans? Ah, but I forget myself. They did not leave with humans, they left with a delver. The very same delver that was at Sanctum. That is fact. There were elves at Sanctum. There must be a connection, an important connection if this delver would leave while a threat exists."

"Will we attack tonight?" one of the goblins blurted out. It did not understand the serp's questions, it only knew the importance of Ryson's departure. "If the delver is gone, it is an opportunity."

Sazar turned his curiosity on the goblin. He almost laughed. "What kind of opportunity?" he pressed with mischievous delight.

The goblin immediately wished it had remained silent. Goblins found it difficult to talk to serps, they stood like hypnotized birds before a king cobra. It stuttered as it tried to explain. "The delver will not be able to scout, there will be no warning."

"He has already uncovered us. Don't you think he has informed the human guard? Don't you think the guard will be that much more careful while he is gone?"

The goblin uneasily looked at the ground.

Again, the serp laughed. "Do you really think we could just walk through the gates because the delver has left? The delver has already done his job, of that I'm sure. The humans have been warned. To attack now would be nothing less than stupidity."

The goblin's shoulder's drooped as it shied from the serp's words.

Sazar remained good-humored, though sharp-tongued. His tone heightened with giddiness as it swept an ever-widening hold upon the goblin's will. "See what happens when you think for yourself? You would walk into an open pit in broad daylight if it wasn't for my guidance. The time to attack is not when the delver is away, but when the delver first returns. That may be an opportune time. The humans will drop their own guard, thinking the delver's return would add to their safety. That is a time of vulnerability. However, that is certainly not our main concern at this time. We must first understand what is actually happening."

Sazar turned away from the goblins and again looked into the fire. "If those are elves from Sanctum, why would they come back for the delver? Ingar was defeated, the sphere destroyed. According to what I know, representatives from each of the five races entered Sanctum, so it may not end with the delver and the elves. Dwarves were at Sanctum, algors were there, even a cliff behemoth. Why would they want or need to meet again? Maybe an alliance, but then why would they not bring a human with them?"

The serp shook his head. His long tail drifted gently across the river rogues skin. Again, he asked the most perplexing question aloud. "What could be so important to make the only delver of Burbon leave so quickly after uncovering us? That is what I need to know. That is very important information."

He first eyed the shag with the thought of having it follow the threesome. He quickly reconsidered. Even a shag would not keep pace with a delver and two elves through the forest, and they already had a head start. He turned his attention to the goblins.

"Return to your posts for now. Watch the forest as well as the walls of Burbon. I wish to be alerted if and when the delver returns. I will send you relief before the sun sets."

The goblins gladly turned and near galloped free from the tunnel, leaving the serp alone with the shag. Sazar folded his hands against his scaly chest. His sharp claws tapped a rhythmic beat against his own thick hide.

The shag fell into a daze, mesmerized by the gentle clicking which echoed through its lair.

Chapter 6

"There's something going on up there," Ryson stated with an edge of concern to his voice.

They had traveled far into the Lacobian. The sun was already climbing high in the sky. The desert heat returned quickly, just as the sight of the sandstone mountain came into their view. Though it stood a distance away, shimmering above the desert sand, they would reach the algor meeting place before noon time.

Just past dawn, Ryson had wondered, even voiced the possibility to his companions, if they might find any algors within the monument. He had not found a trace of a single algor through their entire journey. He had believed he would find many trails once they closed upon the sandstone ridge with its many cave entrances. Yet, first to his disappointment, then to his dismay, he found nothing but the wind blown sand. The possibility that the edifice was now abandoned grew stronger with every step, grew until he tasted the blowing grit of sand in the air.

Holli tensed with preparedness for any calamity as she demanded a more detailed explanation.

"What is it you sense?"

"There's a lot of sand in the air, more than there should be given the amount of wind."

"What could be the source?"

"I'm not sure, but I can tell you what it's not. It's not just a few algors stepping off into the desert. There's just too much sand in the air." Ryson ceased speaking as he stopped all forward movement. His eyes narrowed, focusing upon a point distant on the horizon. His arm jutted forward, his finger pointed out like a dagger. "Over there. Just to the right of the cliff face. Between those two dunes. There's a cloud of sand spreading in the air."

Holli and Lief peered into the distance. They found the spot defined by the delver, but saw nothing. The sand was too fine in the shimmering heat for them to discern it from the surrounding dunes.

The delver, however, was quite sure of what he saw. "The disturbance isn't recent, but it was definitely caused this morning."

"It is beyond my sight," Holli admitted without shame. Elf eyes were sharp but could not compare to those of a purebred delver. "What do you make of it?"

"A slowly spreading cloud of settling sand. There's not much of it left in the air, only a trace really." He bent down and grabbed a handful of sand from the desert at his feet. He threw it into the air and watched carefully. The majority of the abrasive substance fell to the ground. Smaller grains were gently swept away by the hot breeze. The dust, however, floated lazily in the air. At the beginning, it was well concentrated, a tightly defined cloud of minute sand particles. It spread slowly, altered by wind and gravity, but it remained in the air and visible even after several moments.

"That was just a handful," Ryson stated as his eyes shot back and forth from the cloud in front of him to the one in the distance. "Whatever caused the one by the cliff, it had to be big."

Holli wanted greater detail. "Big like what?"

"Maybe like fifty galloping horses, maybe a hundred," Ryson stated flatly.

"A galloping horse would not last very long in this heat," Holli noted.

"That's true, but for the algors to have caused this, there would have to have been a lot of them, and dancing around or something."

"What about a battle?"

Ryson remembered their own encounter with the dwarves. "You think maybe the dwarves have already attacked?"

Holli nodded. "It is a possibility."

"It would have had to have been a large skirmish."

Lief looked to Holli. "Jon knew about their meeting place. If he revealed that to Yave when he explained the circumstance surrounding Tun's death, she would know about it as well. That would definitely be her first target. She would probably send a great force of dwarves to attack."

Ryson gulped back a growing sense of dread that manifested itself as a lump in his throat. He struggled to remain optimistic. "Now, hold on. Why would such a battle between the dwarves and the algors take place so far from the monument? Don't you think the algors would have stayed in the mountain, protected their home? It doesn't make sense that they would go off into the open sand to fight the dwarves."

"The algors are better suited to fight in the open upon the sand," Holli reminded the delver. "They fight with slings. They are used to the shifting sand, where the dwarves are not. If I had an army of algors, I would certainly prefer to fight in the open than in the caves of their sandstone mountain. Especially if they were attacked by dwarves. The dwarves would hold a great advantage in the caves, fighting in an element they would consider home."

Ryson still would not accept the theory. "But how would the algors have known that the dwarves meant to attack? How would they have had a chance to get to the clearing? We haven't warned them yet."

"Word spreads quickly from algor to algor," Holli allowed.

Ryson again thought of their own encounter with the dwarves. The war party jumped through the sand. Perhaps the dwarves did not know of the meeting place, perhaps they attacked a few stragglers just outside of the cliff face and the algors dashed out to meet the antagonists. It held merit, but he would not know for sure until he could better inspect the actual area of disturbance.

"We won't know what happened until I get a closer look at that area of sand," he stated. "I want to get over there as quickly as possible, but I don't want to fall upon an ambush or alarm any algors that may be around. How do we handle this?"

Holli looked directly at the sandstone edifice. "We go to the mountain first. We call to the algors and give our warning. That is why we're here. I hope that we will find an algor, or several algors, that might help with an explanation. We will tend to the disturbance after we carry out our primary mission."

Lief and Ryson did not argue. The delver began a quick trot in the direction of the edifice, and the two elves followed briskly. As he glided over the sandy dunes, Ryson kept a careful eye upon the ground in front of him. He watched diligently for any signs of a dwarf ambush. He also took quick glimpses of the slowly dispersing sand cloud to his right. There was no sign of any further movement. If a battle had been fought there, it was long since over.

The three quickly closed upon the cliff face of the sandstone mountain. As the cave entrances grew more defined with their proximity, Ryson's distress leaped. Immediately, he noticed the fresh trails of hundreds of algors. He said nothing to his companions, but his quickened pace spoke volumes of his anxiety.

The elves struggled to keep up. Just as Holli was about to call for the delver to slow, Ryson came to an abrupt halt. Each elf breathed heavily the hot, dry air as they waited impatiently for an explanation.

Ryson said nothing at first, his attention squarely fixed upon the sand in front of him. His eyes scanned the trails which moved away from the rock and over the dunes. He counted under his breath, staggered by the signs of so many.

He dropped to his knees as he inspected several sets of algor footprints. The claw marks and the wide-spread sole imprints were easily distinguishable in the soft sand. Ryson measured the depth of several prints.

"They were carrying something. Something heavy." He got to his feet and looked directly toward Holli. "The trails lead directly to the sand cloud over there. There aren't any fresh trails coming back."

"Any other markings?"

"If you mean dwarf trails, no. The only thing around is algor prints." Ryson paused to look up at the edifice before him. He shook his head. "I don't think there's anybody left up there."

"Can you be certain?"

"No."

"Should we call to them?" Lief asked tensely.

"I don't know if we should," Ryson responded with caution. "If there are any of them left up there, they're probably going to be cautious about strangers. We don't know what happened here."

Holli's grim expression revealed much of her own dread, expressed more than her simple reply. "Our priorities have now changed. Let us answer what has happened here first. Follow the trails."

Ryson did so eagerly. He moved carefully toward the lingering dust cloud. He said little, only enough to instruct Holli on what he found.

"The trails form stringent lines, they marched in rigid formation. It's hard to tell exactly how many of them were marching this way. At least over two hundred, but maybe five times that much."

Holli looked back to the sandstone ridge. "How many do you think the mountain could hold?"

"Impossible to say. I know very little about how they live, how many per cave, what they might consider cramped. It's also difficult to say how deep the caves go into the rock. If you forced me to guess, I'd say … wait a minute!"

The elves stopped, stood dead still.

The delver sniffed the air, put an ear to the wind. "They're still there." But his voice was a mixture of confusion and certainty. "I can hear them. There's no battle, they're alive, but they're crying, wailing. What's going on?"

The delver wanted an answer, and he wanted it now. He took off in a dash, quickly outdistancing the two elves.

Lief cursed under his breath as he and Holli sprinted to catch up. They followed in his wake, fighting the heat and the shifting sand. They lost sight of him over the first dune. As they topped it, they caught his blurred movement quickly passing over the next. Again, Lief cursed.

"Why does he do this?"

"It is what he is," Holli responded without slowing.

As the elves reached the top of the second dune, they did not expect to see the delver, only his trail in the sand which he did not bother to hide. To their surprise, Ryson stood in their view, stopped upon the peak of a third dune and looking down upon a valley of sand before him.

The elves fought against the desert slopes that separated them from their friend. They plunged forward, saying nothing, their feet slipping over loose granules. They reached the side of the delver only to join him in viewing a sorrowful sight.

Thousands of algors circled a large open pit, stood hand in hand grieving. Well over another thousand algor bodies rested lifeless and still at the bottom of the pit. The dead were not covered, and large jagged wounds were grossly apparent. No blood dripped from the gashes, only a thick ooze glistened in the sun. The three stared down upon the sight with marked sadness as well as disbelief etching their expressions.

Ryson's voice cracked with emotion. "So many, so many dead! Look at the wounds! They were attacked, slaughtered."

Lief spoke with gray gloom. "The dwarves. They must have found the meeting place. Fire upon them all." The last was spoken without angry emotion, but with grievous regret.

Holli, though moved by the sight, called upon her guard training. She placed the facts together, ordered the events in likely fashion.

"They are indeed axe and mace wounds. I doubt the algors even knew what hit them. They were attacked in their mountain, not in the open. I'm sure that's where we'll find the signs of battle. The sand cloud that you saw was the result of excavating the burial site. They carried the bodies from the mountain. The lines you spoke of were a funeral march."

"The bodies. That's what weighed them down." Ryson could stand the sight no longer. He swung his head away, took a few steps, and dropped to the seat of his pants.

"Should we let them know we're here?" Lief asked of Holli.

"They already know," Ryson mumbled. "They saw me when I climbed up here. They didn't move. They just stood there wailing, ignoring me."

Holli frowned. "We came here to tell them the dwarves wished to attack them. That, they now know. But I wouldn't suggest we leave until we get a chance to tell them of all we understand. They must be told of Yave's actions. They must be told why so many were killed. I doubt it will help ease their grief. I have no idea how long their ceremony will last. I can only suggest we go back to their caves and wait for them to return to the mountain. Hopefully, they will hear what we have to say."

Holli walked slowly back in the direction of the sandstone mountain. Lief followed, but Ryson ignored them both. Still sitting in the sand, his senses fought for reason in the scene he had witnessed. The wailing of the algors streamed into his ears, bit into his skin. His fingers clenched about handfuls of sand. Confusion, grief, anger; all of it flooded his consciousness. The sight of the pit haunted him, remained clear in his mind no matter how hard he fought off the image. Death, not of one or even a handful, but death in grand design as if the reaper himself had swooned down and his black spirit engulfed them like a low cloud, that was the image of his horror. Three comrades had died in his presence at Sanctum, but never, never before had he witnessed death on such an immense scale. He couldn't just walk away.

He staggered to his feet. He turned to face the algors, looked into the heart of the burial pit. Though the algors were not his own; not his family, not even his race; he hurt. Pain exploded in his chest. A thickness filled his head, beyond tragedy, beyond horror. It was not the twisted mutilated shape of the dead. It was the loss, a loss he felt as deeply as any algor. How could the soul feel so empty, yet hurt so much at the same time? He wished to release his pain. Ryson did not even consider if the algors would have him. He simply trudged down the side of the dune to the edge of the pit. He stepped up to the ring of algors that stood hand-in-hand.

Without a word, without any other acknowledgment of his presence, the circle opened for him, opened as if he was simply another algor. Two algors broke hands and stepped aside, offered a space for the Ryson to enter, an invitation for the delver to join the circle.

Ryson took a small step forward, took the hands of the algors, and completed the circle once more. At that moment, he was both one with the algors, as well as separated from them. He felt the sense of belonging to their community, just as he felt that which made him different. In that same instant, he understood what it was like to be an algor, a race that constantly struggled to seek individualism in a community bound as a whole. He looked into the pit and saw the loss in a new light, the loss to the community. The pressure in his head doubled, tripled, and forced the unyielding release of tears. He wailed with the algors. Screamed until his voice was nothing more than a grumble and his throat was raw.

For one of the few times in his life, the delver lost track of both his surroundings and of time. No pressing desire to explore the land tempted his spirit. He simply stood with the algors crying, exhausting his grief. He held nothing back, he released it all.

The algors began pushing sand from piles into the pit. They worked in a fashion which typified their struggle between acting together and acting alone. At times they moved in orchestrated flows, moving like a single arm directed by one mind. Other times, their coordination broke down. They appeared more like angry bees flying in every direction.

As the algors finished the burial, Ryson realized that they had not yet released all their emotion. Though they had discharged their grief, they held to their anger, anger out of their community being viciously attacked. And though they welcomed the delver into their ceremony, they now ignored him. The algors filed away, passing the delver with disregard.

Ryson looked to the sand, looked upon the burial site. There were no markers left behind, no list of names of the dead. The desert had swallowed the bodies and soon a hot wind would remove all traces, all signs of the burial. It was not the algor way to leave remembrances for their fallen, for their dead, but Ryson could not bring himself to simply walk away from the empty sand.

He reached into his pouch and pulled out his dagger. He plunged it into the sand. It looked out of place, a weapon on top of a burial mound for hundreds. He thought of picking it up. He knew the desert would swallow this as well before the end of the day, it would fail as a marker. He bent over, but his hand stopped before his fingers could clasp the handle. He would leave it behind, a marker for his own memories, a marker that a delver had stood with the algors and understood their grief.

Ryson quickly returned to the sandstone mountain, only to find the algors circling the elves with angry shouts. They were not listening to Holli's call for calm or even Lief's curses. Most were not even listening to themselves. They simply shouted out threats, insults, and accusations.

"The elves are allied with the dwarves!"

"These are but more spies!"

"Send them away!"

"Take them prisoner."

Ryson tried to make his way through the mass of algors to the elves, but they blocked his path. Otherwise, the algors ignored him. They heaped their fury upon the elves. The delver meant nothing to them. He was able to use his speed and agility to pass through much of the mob, but there were so many. The circles of algors grew tighter as he closed upon the elves and it became near impossible to pass unless he climbed over them. He considered it.

The algors continued their harangue.

"Elves have no business here."

"We have work to do, the magic must be collected."

"The dwarves will pay, as will all those that help them."

Ryson could hear Holli try to speak over the crowd.

"We do not help the dwarves, we came to warn you." Her emotions remained in control even as the algors completely dismissed her statement.

"It is too late for warnings."

"Warn the dwarves. Let them know they will pay."

Ryson was not sure what that meant, but one thing was perfectly clear, the algors were not in the mood for listening. The group consensus was fed out of anger and hostility and it seemed each algor fed on the passion.

In the face of such angry disarray, Ryson opted for the dramatic. With a swift pull, he unsheathed his sword. It burned like the sun. The light bathed over the algors, covered them like sheets of rain. He made no threatening gestures. He simply held the blade well over his head, pointing straight to the heavens.

The algors ceased their din. They turned away from the elves as their voices spoke in unison. A thousand algors speaking with one voice, speaking the name of a delver that had joined those of the legends.

"Ryson Acumen."

The name crashed out over the desert as it was spoken with reverence and intimacy.

A single algor voice followed the chorus. "It is indeed the delver Acumen."

Ryson turned upon the voice as the speaker stepped through the intertwined mass. It was an algor the delver recognized.

"You were one of the ten," Ryson stated with certainty. "You traveled to Sanctum with us. You didn't enter the mountain. You were one of the eight that waited outside."

"You did not select me," the algor said plainly.

A twinge of guilt bit into Ryson. "I didn't know who to pick. I just picked two at random."

"You picked on faith," the algor corrected. "Why are you here?"

The need for the sword was gone, and Ryson returned it to its sheath. The algors listened intently to his response.

The purpose of Ryson's journey was now nearly irrelevant. Still, he spoke with open honesty over his intentions. "We came to warn you the dwarves wanted to attack. In truth, it was the elves that came to me. They pointed out that you needed to be warned. I realize that we are late, and you don't know how sorry I am."

The single algor spoke eloquently. "We would never doubt the word of Ryson Acumen. If the elves wished to do us this service, we shall not repay them with hostility."

Holli and Lief made their way through the crowd of algors. They stood at Ryson's side. The elf guard desired more information.

"What exactly happened here? I realize the dwarves attacked you, but how? How did the battle progress? Why were your casualties so great?"

"The dwarves attacked viciously," the algor responded. "They tunneled into our mountain from below. We were not armed, we were not ready. They moved from one tunnel to another, killing everything in their path. There were no warnings, only confusion. Those of us that survived did so only because we slept in tunnels the dwarves did not locate or because we were out of the mountain entirely. The dwarves appeared ready to destroy the mountain completely, but the large number of tunnels forced them to separate. Their troops were disjointed and unorganized. They had to regroup back underground. We have not seen them again. We don't know if they'll be back because we don't know why we were attacked."

Lief turned his attention to all the algors, giving sweeping glances across the crowd. "What has happened here is an injustice, a misguided act of revenge. It seems Yave Folarok of Dunop blames the algors for the death of her son, Tun. King Bol has banished himself from Dunop and Yave has taken control. I know this does not ease your loss, but this is why you were attacked. I'm sorry."

The algors erupted, the silence blasted away by their calls.

"Be sorry for the dwarves."

"The dwarves shall be sorry."

"Sorry they dared to attack us."

More shouts rang out, but many of the algors began to climb the sandstone cliff face and disappear into the many caves. The numbers around the elves and Ryson dwindled, but their resolution was no less evident.

Ryson's eyes bore into the algor in front of him. "What are you going to do?"

"War has been declared," the algor said simply. "We shall respond. We will create an army of sand giants and send them to Dunop. The sand giants will use the very tunnels dug by the dwarves that attacked us. The tunnels will lead them directly to Dunop. If the dwarves try to collapse them, the giants will break through. The sand giants will destroy Dunop and every dwarf that comes in their path."

The algor said nothing more, simply walked past Ryson and followed the others back to the caves. Within moments, the two elves and the delver were left alone, standing in front of the sandstone edifice with even greater dread than when they had begun their trip.

Chapter 7

"They were only a support party, ten commandos setting up a listening post. They noted movement on the surface. They thought they might have come across some wayward algors. When they broke through the surface, they came upon two elves and what they believe was a delver. He moved too quickly to be a human."

Strog Grandhammer, the newly appointed War Com—military strategist of the separatist dwarves now in command of the dwarf army—continued his unsettling report to Queen Yave.

"Our troops were not prepared for battle, at least not with a delver. He moved quickly enough in the open to remove their protective goggles. The desert sun and sand impaired their vision. They retreated."

"Retreat?" Yave's question shot from her lips like a poison dart.

Strog replied firmly. "A tactical decision I completely agree with. Blind dwarves can not fight successfully against a delver and two elves, especially in the open sand. We suffered no casualties in this skirmish and we have learned much."

"What have you learned?" Yave scoffed at Strog's embrace of such incompetence. Her question sounded more of a dare than a request.

"The delver had a glowing sword," Strog sneered. Her venomous stare was not lost upon the War Com. How dare she question his tactical appraisal? How long would he have to put up with her ignorance, her incompetence? She was important to the separatists for now. The dwarves of Dunop accepted her as royalty. But soon, very soon, the separatists would do away with that need as well, just as they had done away with the need for the elves. Strog spoke with a challenging tone, a tone which revealed his growing impatience. "I guess I don't have to tell you of the importance of this. And before you even think to ask, there is no doubt. The sword magnified the light of the desert. There is no doubt of its enchantment, and no doubt as to who holds it."

"The delver from Sanctum?" Yave's expression revealed equal portions of shock and anger.

The War Com needled her emotions. "I know of no other delver with a glowing sword. It must be Ryson Acumen. The very same delver that accompanied Tun and Jon into Sanctum, the delver that destroyed Ingar's sphere and released the magic."

Yave seethed. She stamped her feet as her anger prohibited her from answering.

Strog pressed on, taking enjoyment from Yave's outburst of temper. "Based on the report, it is likely the elves were also the very same elves that entered Sanctum as well. They fit the description of Lief Woodson and Holli Brances. What other elves would be accompanying Ryson Acumen into the desert?"

Yave managed to spit out one word. "Where?"

Strog pulled a roughly drawn map off a stone table. He examined it slowly, for no other reason then to make Yave wait. He feigned expressions of concentration as he glanced across several portions of the parchment. He knew exactly where the skirmish took place, but he knew the extended pause would agitate Yave even further. Finally, he folded the map over once, then again. He handed the squared parchment to the queen, pointing to the exact location of the minor battle.

"There," he pronounced. "In the desert, far from Dark Spruce, far from any human town. They must have passed through the rock canyons as they were forging further into the desert. In truth, my troops only chanced upon them. In order to track algor movements, it is essential I have tunnel sentries spread in a perimeter around possible algor travel routes. To the algors, the entire desert is a potential access way. I ordered many listening posts in many places. We were lucky to find them."

"Lucky?! Your troops were defeated." Yave was unimpressed with his strategies, only incensed at his failure.

The War Com curled his lip. He stared silently at the queen.

Yave saw the challenge of his gaze. She exploded. "Did your warriors kill the elves or the delver?! Did they take them prisoner? No! They scurried away like scared mice."

Strog's eyes narrowed, but still he said nothing.

Yave threw a goblet across the room. Clear liquid, mountain water that was funneled underground through falls and aqueducts filtered by tons of shale and rock, splashed across the wall. The goblet, made of gold and nickel, suffered a dent as it clanked noisily against the wall and then the floor. The metallic clang echoed throughout the throne room, yet Yave's voice overcame the vibration.

"Just don't stand there! Say something."

Strog did not speak up immediately, making it clear he would not jump to her orders. He rubbed his hands, looked over his armor, stroked his beard; all with careful deliberation. Finally, after completing this silent ritual, he addressed the queen with near contempt.

"My forces have yet to be defeated. I took this castle from Jon without the loss of a single soldier. My army crushed the algors in their own stronghold, killed over a thousand of their kind. I now have the desert covered with a well defined spread of listening posts. The algors in the Lacobian won't be able to take a stroll without me knowing about it. I have succeeded in exercising every advantage over the algors and leaving them decimated. As for the delver and the elves, capturing or killing them was never one of my military objectives. Retreat does not mean defeat, especially when in retreat I gain yet another advantage..."

"Advantage? In retreat?"

Strog continued despite the interruption, "... and another source of information. I now know that a delver and two elves were venturing into the desert in the direction of the algor stronghold. That raises many questions. If my commandos had been captured I would not have that information."

Yave bit down on her fury. His meaning reached her. "What do you think they were doing out there?"

"It seems obvious. Two elves and the delver from Sanctum moving towards the algors at the same moment we were about to attack. That is too much for simple coincidence. The elves must have found out about our plans. That in itself is important. It means that there are still dwarves in Dunop that have not accepted our ideas. There must be some that decided to betray their own and reveal our plans to the elves. These elves took it upon themselves to join with the delver to warn the algors."

"No, not just warn. They were going to offer an alliance against us," Yave bellowed.

Strog showed surprise. Yave did not contradict his theory. In fact, she furthered it to a point beyond his own contentions. He reacted with reluctance. "I have heard nothing of a possible alliance. But as I said, at the very least they were surely prepared to warn the algors of our attack. If they had succeeded in that, the results may have been disastrous. Based on this information, we have uncovered a great threat, a threat which now must be silenced. It is now imperative that we find the disloyal dwarves that betrayed our cause. We can not allow them to hamper our efforts."

Yave barely heard Strog's words. The thought of more enemies burned her thoughts, not the disloyal dwarves but the delver and the elves. Ryson Acumen, Lief Woodson, Holli Brances; all of them were with Tun when he died. None of them did anything to save her son. They were as guilty as the algors, as guilty as Jon. Now, they moved to join forces against her.

"Is there no end to this injustice?" she ranted. "They kill my son, the true heir to my throne, but they are not satisfied. Now, they wish to help those most responsible. They will all pay." Again she wished to hurl something across the room, but her hand was empty. The innocent object that suffered at her last tirade, the goblet, rested too far away to retrieve. Her fist pounded down upon the arm of her throne.

"They failed in their attempt," Strog stated victoriously, as if the queen had nothing to rave about. "My forces crushed the algors before they could be warned. There is little left of the algors in the Lacobian, certainly too few and too disorganized to mount a successful response attack. I need only send my army on another offensive tonight, and the algors will be vanquished completely. We will then destroy their stronghold. Though there are still many wandering about the desert, they are isolated. They will not be allowed to regroup, and without their stronghold, they will have no place to coordinate any counter-offensive. Those that are left will be forced to wander the desert, and we will pick them off one by one."

"Fool!" Yave cursed. "You spout as if you have won. You have won nothing. The elves have shown they are willing to ally with the algors. The humans as well, the delver will convince them. When you send our army back into the desert, we will be open to attack. The elves are from Dark Spruce, they know the entrance to our city. This is exactly the opportunity they will be looking for."

The War Com stared at the queen in total bewilderment. "What are you talking about?"

Yave ranted with hostility. Her voice shifted in volume and tone, exemplifying the twisted path of her thoughts. "Holli Brances and Lief Woodson! They come from Dark Spruce. They are angry with us for cutting off trade. They are looking for an excuse to attack us. They don't trust us. That is why they were going to offer their assistance to the algors. Just as they saw that Tun was killed, they will see the rest of us dead as well. The delver, all delvers, they live with humans. They can not be trusted. Ryson Acumen will see that the humans side with the elves and the algors. His sympathy is with them, that is why he was in the desert!"

Strog did not know how to deal with Yave's madness. He spoke with uncertainty, his own confidence faltering, his voice was halting. "My spies say nothing of coordinated elf movements. My reports say they are preparing for the dormant season, nothing more."

"Your spies did not tell you of the delver and the two elves going into the Lacobian."

"I can not keep track of each individual elf."

"But you admit the elves must have found out about our plans to attack the algors. You spoke of dwarves who were informing the elves. Your spies did not uncover this, either."

"But there is nothing to indicate the elves are preparing to attack."

"What do you need to see? The elves and humans banded together with swords drawn in this very room? I tell you the signs are there. They are allied with the algors."

Strog threw open his hands. His features curled into a grotesque frown. "So what is it you think we should do?"

"We must attack," she hissed like a cobra about to strike.

"That is what I said," Strog groaned with frustration. Yave's madness was unyielding, it drove him to astonishment. "We will attack the algors tonight. Finish them off."

Yave slapped him across his face. His beard muffled the clap of her palm against his cheek. Still, the quick smack resonated through the throne room, served as a precursor for yet another tirade by the queen.

"You fool! You damned fool! Not the algors. We can deal with them later. The elves are the threat, the elves and the humans. We must attack them now. Attack them before they can attack us."

Strog was too shocked to react. No dwarf had ever dared strike him. He was powerful, able to pull stone apart with his bare hands. He could have yanked Yave's head from her neck with but a simple tug. The slap, however, meant less than the fact that she was actually challenging his tactics, his battle strategy. She, who had no network of intelligence, no soldiers to command, no experience in battle, she was telling him who to attack and when.

Ludicrous.

"Attack the elves?" His face twisted with mystification. The plan had no military merit whatsoever. Open a second front, another battle enemy when the first was not yet destroyed, the concept was ridiculous.

Yave scorned his shock. "You would have them attack us while your army is in the Lacobian desert? No. Recall our forces at once. Divide them into separate divisions. One to handle the humans, the other to attack the elves in Dark Spruce."

The outrageousness of her suggestion made him forget her physical attack upon his face. The possible redeployment of his army to handle a threat which did not exist defied all reason. Strog shook his head vehemently. "No! No! That is not sound. We have two important objectives that must be fulfilled right now! We must ferret out disloyal dwarves in Dunop and we must finish off the algors. We must not attack the elves while the algors remain a threat. And we can not even conceive of another attack plan until we know which dwarves are revealing our secrets to the elves."

"Which is even more reason to attack the elves now!" Yave shouted over him. "If they have set up a network of spies, does that not convince you of their ill-will? Consider the pure, simple facts. If the elves knew we were to attack the algors, they also know the extent of our forces to protect our own city."

Strog stammered. Yave's distortion of the obvious forced him to consider irrelevant factors. For a moment, he began to question his own tactics, second-guess the very actions which so far had led to overwhelming victory.

"It is true the city is ill prepared to fight off an attack," he conceded. "I used the core of our forces to attack the algors. I wanted to make our attack complete. I needed warriors to fill the algor stronghold. I also need sentries in the desert to track movement."

Strog caught himself. What was he doing? Why was he even entertaining these thoughts? His strategies were sound. Why listen to the delusions of a deranged, vengeful queen? His objection spilled from his lips like water over a dam. "No! This is madness. I have deployed my forces with reason. As I said before, there is no sound military tactic in redeploying our forces. We must see to the end of the algors before we consider a threat that does not exist. The elves will not attack us."

Yave glared. She throttled her fury, her madness. She embraced the power and the authority that was hers as queen and shoved it in Strog's face. "I am not asking you, I am telling you. You will hold your attack on the algors. You will recall your army and you will attack the elves and humans."

Strog stood at the edge, but a hair's width from crossing the dangerous threshold of refusing the queen's authority, of perhaps even committing regicide. Why not? They had overthrown Jon. Yave was their puppet. Why continue the charade?

The answer held his hands from violence. There were still dwarves who resisted the separatists, spies revealing secrets to the elves. They were small in number, probably only a handful, but they underscored the continued need for a puppet leader. Yave would keep the masses of Dunop pacified, while the separatists fought for greater control. They would remove her, eventually, but not now. Now, they could ill-afford a civil war.

Strog scowled, decided to maintain his cloak of service to the queen. It took long moments and the self-control of a seasoned warrior and general, but he answered with veiled respect to her authority.

"Of course it is your decision, but it is my duty to inform you of the great risks involved in such an undertaking." His words were cold and they sickened him as he spoke. "It is your will, but attacking the elves and humans at this moment entails factors you may not have considered. First, there is the fact that dwarves within Dunop must still be communicating with the elves in Dark Spruce. Otherwise, how would they have known to warn the algors? What good would it do to develop battle strategies against the elves if those same plans will be revealed to the enemy?"

Yave shrugged with contempt at the need for strategy. "What plans do you need? They are elves, we are dwarves. We know where their camp is. Strike and attack at night."

Strog bit down on his lip before continuing with other objections. "And what of the humans? Where do I center my attack? Burbon? Pinesway? Connel? Even farther? The humans outnumber us. They have towns spread across the land. To attack even a quarter of their known villages, I would have to divide my army into nothing more than raiding parties that would make goblins laugh and would be decimated in seconds."

Yave folded her arms. She rose from her chair and stomped across the room. Her foot reached the goblet and kicked it back against the wall. Another dent bent the rim. She turned away, whirled about and paced heavily back to her throne. She grumbled about the humans multiplying like rodents, filling the far corners of the land. She threw her gaze back at Strog as an idea developed in her angry tormented mind.

"Then we'll have to increase the size of our army."

Strog shook his head. "Every available dwarf in Dunop is already within our service."

"Then look beyond Dunop."

"You can't be serious," Strog responded sternly. "Do you really think other cities will join us? They remain under the rule of long standing royalty. I doubt royal leaders will be willing to ally with us. They view us as renegades, a threat to their own rule. Until our movement spreads, we must rely on our own strength."

The queen again turned and paced the room. This time she allowed the mangled goblet a reprieve. She left it alone.

Strog settled in a sense of relief. He had talked the queen out of these senseless judgments. He was once more in control of tactical decisions. There would be no foolishness, no absurd attacks upon the elves and the humans, at least not until the algors were destroyed, or so he believed.

Yave barked a single command as she strode toward the door. "Follow me!"

Strog obeyed, not out of respect for her authority, but out of curiosity. What did she want of him now? What foolish ideas would her madness lead them upon? The metal soles of Strog's war boots clicked first against the stone hallway, and then against the descending steps of a granite staircase. After but a few moments, Yave's destination was obvious, the cell where Jon was imprisoned. Further and further they descended the dark, spiraling staircase that led to the bowels of the castle. The meager but steady light which bathed most of the underground city drifted away. Haphazardly placed torches spotted the walls. The trapped smoke swayed lazily with a sickening mildew smell which drenched the air. Cracks, bordering on fissures, decorated the tubular paths of this dungeon.

Yave stepped away from the stairway, not quite at the bottom tier. She moved along a platform to a side tunnel. She passed silently by two dwarf guards that appeared enamored by the silence and the darkness of their post. They took little notice of the queen, their attention fixed on Strog. They would follow his orders, not hers. In truth, they wondered if the queen was going to join her son as prisoner.

Strog made a sideways glance to them, and motioned for them to stay at their posts. He unenthusiastically grabbed a set of keys from a lonely hook embedded in the wall. He knew where the queen wanted to go, but still had no idea why.

Yave stopped in front of a thick, wooden door. The rot decried its age, revealed its origin. Ancient wood had been collected by the elves, traded to the dwarves in return for stone and gems. Its very existence repulsed her. It reminded her of the elves and how they were willing to betray her, just as they betrayed Tun. She shuddered with anger, almost lost sight of her true purpose.

Strog watched her carefully, did not move to open the door until she so directed. He would not assume anything beyond this point. Her purpose remained hidden, and so, he would wait.

"Open it!" Yave snarled.

He complied. His thick fingers found it difficult to apply the key into its hole. After some deliberation, he finally turned the latch. He pressed open the heavy, thick door. Stone hinges grated in angry upheaval as the door swung into the cell.

Jon did not look up. He sat alone, unchained upon a squared stone block, a bunk for the damned. The cell opened up into a large oval expanse. There were no corners. Rubble littered the floor. Streams of dirty underground water washed down over long sections of the walls. Not a fitting place for the only remaining blood-true Folarok in Dunop.

Jon ignored his guests. Unresponsive, he sat with his face in his hands. Removed of all armor, weapons, and any garment which rendered him as royalty, he appeared more like a beggar in tattered clothes than a prince or a king. His hair disheveled, his beard unruly; his figure appeared at home in these dark, forbidding surroundings.

Yave felt nothing for her son, no sympathy, no regret over her own actions that led to his downfall. Her thoughts so scrambled with the boiling desire for revenge, she did not even recognize him as her son. He was a traitor, and her voice revealed these feelings with the black clarity of a winter night sky.

"I want to talk to you. You have information I need."

Jon's face remained buried in his palms. Her voice held nothing that he would recognize. Even if it did, he had spiraled so far into his own personal abyss that his own recollections of reality were muddled into twisted nightmares. He coughed.

Strog measured the reactions of both Jon and Yave. He found delight in Jon's despondency. He was broken, no longer a threat to the separatist movement. They could release him this moment and he would do no harm. He would probably wander helplessly through the darkest tunnel ways of Dunop until he perished from hunger.

Yave's indifference, however, left him cold. How could a mother have distanced herself so far from her own son? It puzzled him beyond the considerations of family relations. He had spent a lifetime studying all aspects of war, including emotional responses which may sway the tide of battle. He had learned that those fighting for home and family normally fought beyond their normal capacities, while foreign invaders usually suffered morale difficulties due to a longing to be back with loved ones. Here, however, was a mother so distanced from her only surviving family member, she considered him an enemy.

This simple aspect made Yave a dangerous individual. Whether it is madness, vengeance, or simple blood lust, Strog realized it would have to be considered in each of his future dealings with Yave. After all, the queen would be removed from power eventually. It was best if Strog remembered her apathy as well as her emotional tirades.

In this instance, Yave remained as cold as a north wind blowing off snow capped mountains, and her accusations rang as frigid.

"The elves are allying with our enemies, but then you probably already knew that."

Her decree made no sense to Jon. He remained silent.

"Denying it will not help you. You were against breaking ties with the elves when you took the throne. You probably know much about the spies that even now are probably working to betray your own people."

Jon did not stir, did not care. Elves? Spies? Who cared of elves and spies? His life was ruined. He had lost everything. But then, he had also realized his wish. He was relieved of his responsibilities. Yes, the crown was taken from him, but it was something he never wanted in the first place. Being thrown into this prison was a small price to pay for being freed of such responsibility.

Yave remained undeterred by Jon's passivity. "You will tell me of what you know. You will tell me what alliances were made upon Sanctum. You will tell me why the elves wish to warn the algors. You will tell me why Ryson Acumen is now interfering in our business and you will tell me where I can find him."

Whereas Yave's voice could not inspire a reaction from Jon, the mention of the delver's name brought him to life. His hands dropped to his lap, then to his side as he lifted himself from his rock bed. His eyes lit upon the queen, but there was no true recognition. Only the face of the delver danced in his thoughts.

"Ryson?" he whispered.

Strog watched intently. The delver’s name had almost hypnotized the imprisoned dwarf and prisoners often spoke freely under such delusions, giving away important intelligence.

"Yes, Ryson Acumen. The one who helped you kill Tun." Yave sneered with contempt at having to repeat the name. She faced her son with growing emotion, not love or sympathy, but anger and condemnation.

Strog gripped her arm. He wanted her to remain silent—let the prisoner spout important information, leave him in his trance. To interrupt with aggressive, hostile remarks was plain foolishness, and he would not have it.

She tried to yank her arm free in a fit of unbridled fury, but Strog's grip tightened. She went to slap him again, but his other arm blocked the blow. She reached to claw out his eyes. Her fingers were seized in mid-air. As Strog bent them back with force, she gulped down a moan of pain.

"What are you doing?"

"If you remain silent, we will have the information you obviously came down here for."

Jon slanted his head in confusion. He heard their voices, saw their struggle, but didn't understand it. Still failing to show recognition to his mother the queen, his focus drifted off. Whatever had stirred him from his resignation was drifting away, a dying echo of a name he thought he knew. His eyes fell to the floor. The dull grey slate welcomed him. The blank environment held his desires. In this cell he had no responsibilities, no decisions to make. He was not king, he was not prince. His stomach did not ache, did not tie into knots with the worries of matters beyond his control. He was safe. His shoulders slouched, not with the weight of a heavy burden, but with the freedom of near nonexistence.

Yave still struggled with Strog. She snarled with anger as he pulled her from the cell. When Strog released her to shut the cell door, she leapt upon him. Pounding furiously upon his head.

"You dare touch me!" she growled. "I will have you killed. I will hang your fingers around my neck!"

Strog threw her off him. He did not draw the heavy double-bladed axe which hung from his belt, though he surely felt the desire. He pulled just enough diplomacy from his words to slowly calm the enraged queen.

"I am simply following your own direction. Though you have not spoken the order, I see why you have brought me here. You wish to obtain information from Jon as to the identity of spies and the whereabouts of the delver. It is obvious that this is paramount to your wishes to defeat the algors as well as the elves. Jon was about to reveal much, he does not recognize you. The name of the delver stirred him into a susceptible state. If, however, he realized you meant to do the delver harm, he would have ceased. I did not wish to assault your person, but you were about to unknowingly hinder your own objectives. If we do not contradict or intimidate the prisoner, he will reveal much to us. But we must remain in control. Forgive me your majesty." These last words pained the War Com, but they were needed to assuage the queen of her growing resentment.

Yave heaved an unforgiving grunt of dissatisfaction. "You are never to touch me again!"

Strog bit down on his lip. In his mind, he imagined the day when he would strangle her, or behead her with several chops of a dull axe. The vivid image made his next words almost palatable. "Again, I am sorry. It is my wish only to serve you and your cause."

The queen brushed his apparent apology aside. Her eyes set upon the cell door like a hungry jackal eyeing a sickly rabbit. "If you think you can get information, then do so. I want to know where the delver lives. Delvers make their homes in human towns. Find the town he comes from and we will know what humans to target. That is the reason I brought you here. Once we know where to strike the humans, you will have no further excuses. We can move forth with my plans and soon every race in Uton will learn of dwarf justice."

One look at Yave made it obvious that debate was useless. Revenge was her only motive. It did not matter to her that the algors were still a threat, and their decimation should be the foremost military objective. Her fury had pushed her to paranoia. It was not enough to attack the algors, she wished to extract revenge from all she blamed, and that included the elves, humans, and delvers. Strog's cautions would not stop her. She was not concerned with judicial strategy. Once she narrowed her sights upon one human village, she would order him to move against the elves as well as the humans.

Strog fumed. His command over battle strategies was being ripped from him by the delusions of a mad woman who was now queen. He bristled at the prospect of having to divide his army as well as leave an injured and angry enemy at his flank before finishing the job. He would open a second and third front by attacking the elves and the humans. He saw no signs the elves were allied with the algors, but an unprovoked attack would certainly lead to such an alliance. The algors would be given time to regroup while humans and elves offered their assistance, all of this while he could not obtain the assistance of neighboring dwarf cities. The forces of Dunop would stand alone.

Yet, he abandoned all hope of making Yave see this point. There was little he could do or say to convince her. If he resisted her orders, she would call for his execution. He would be forced to remove her from power. Subsequent events became clear. Royalists that accepted the separatists because of the queen would revolt. They would be embroiled in a civil war. Neighboring dwarf cities may then interfere, but not on the side of the separatists. They would seize the opportunity to restore pure monarchy to Dunop. The separatists would surely be defeated and their cause destroyed forever.

There was but one hope Strog could seize upon. If Yave could be pacified with a small strike upon the elves of Dark Spruce and one human village, he may yet keep his army intact without inviting major reprisals. The humans will not know where to attack and the elves may be too confused to understand what is actually happening. If he was lucky, he could regroup his army and send them to finish off the algors before they truly allied in force against him. It was thus now to his advantage to uncover the very knowledge Yave desired. He needed to narrow the possible human target sites as well as uncover any information as to possible dwarf traitors that might warn the elves.

Strog turned from Yave, exasperated but intent on obtaining what he needed to know. He swung the cell door back open and again stepped back inside. He pulled the door shut before Yave could accompany him. Best to leave her outside where her tirades would not deter the success of the interrogation.

Jon remained standing. He stared contentedly at the floor. He showed no response to the opening of his cell door and made no acknowledgment of Strog's return.

The War Com considered how to bring Jon back to a susceptible state, to place the dethroned king into the trance that made questioning more permissive. Strog whispered words and phrases that he hoped would recall the trance.

"Sanctum. Ryson Acumen. The elves, Lief Woodson and Holli Brances. They wish to be with you again."

"Sanctum?" Jon closed his eyes in anguish. He thought of the dark hollow mountain, how it claimed the life of his brother. The pain began to clear his mind.

Strog cursed under his breath at his own error. He struggled to correct it. "The delver, Ryson Acumen. He saved the land. Do you not wish to see him?"

Jon opened his eyes. He looked to the War Com. There was no trance. He recognized Strog immediately, a leader of the separatists, an enemy to the throne. He recalled the last few moments. He knew his mother was in his cell, guessed she was now waiting outside. The ex-king bristled with animosity.

"What is it you really want? What is it your queen wants?"

Yave threw open the cell door. The resoluteness of Jon's voice disturbed the War Com, but it enraged the queen.

"I want to know everything about the delver Ryson Acumen."

"Why?"

"You will tell me what I want to know!"

"Why?" Jon repeated. He stood straight and defiant. For only the second time since Bol left, he appeared as a king.

His resolve enraged the queen. Yave shrieked. "Because I command it."

Jon almost laughed. "You? You command me? I am either a king or I'm a condemned dwarf. No matter which way you look at it, I do not have to take your orders. Since my removal from the throne was illegal and immoral, I will not recognize your rule, and I do not take commands."

Jon turned his back on his mother. He thought of Bol, how he turned his back on all of Dunop. He almost smiled at the irony.

"You will tell me!" Yave bellowed.

Jon's back responded the same as his front. "Why?"

Strog interrupted strongly. "The delver has made an attempt to interfere with us. We wish to know why."

"What has he done?"

Strog grumbled. He was supposed to be asking the questions, not answering them. Still, he needed the information.

"He was in the desert, heading toward the algors. He was going to warn them of our attack. You believed he was a friend of yours. If he is a friend, why would he take the algors' side over ours?"

"Probably because he knows your cause is unjust."

Strog saw an opening, a way to trick Jon into saying more than he should. He moved carefully. "The delver would not take sides otherwise?"

"Of course not."

"You know him that well?"

"Well enough."

"So he would wish to help the algors against the dwarves only because, as you put it, we are being unjust."

Jon nodded.

"Why would he think our cause is unjust?"

"Because he knows the algors had nothing to do with..." He could not say his brother's name. "The algors did nothing to invite an attack against them."

Jon became tired. He had not had to think much over the past few days. If anything, he avoided contemplation while he embraced the oblivion of his cell. Strog was forcing him to recall painful memories. He did not wish to continue the conversation.

Strog, however, pressed the weakness of his opponent. "You might hold the algors blameless, but you can not deny that they had much to do with your brother's death. After all, they created the sand giant that killed him."

Jon did not answer. He walked back to his stone bed. He threw himself down upon it heavily, his back still to the queen and the War Com.

Yave was about to demand answers, but Strog held his hand up for her to remain quiet. Amazingly, she obeyed. She watched curiously as Strog continued to build the web that would ensnare the answers he desired.

"So, the delver may agree with you that the algors were not at fault. He would argue your cause?"

Ryson's face etched itself in Jon's thoughts. Yes, the delver would argue for him, would argue for the algors. That was the answer. With a spark of hope, Jon turned to face Yave. He spoke to her, not to Strog.

"You blame me, you blame the algors, but you are wrong. Ryson would know that. Ask him."

"He would lie." Yave spat out before Strog could stop her.

"No, he wouldn't. He did everything he could to save the land, to save everyone, including the dwarves. You would have to believe him."

"We can not talk to him," Strog interrupted and then quickly pressed a question for information he wanted. "We do not know where to find him. We do not even know where to look. Do you?"

"But you said you knew he was in the desert hoping to warn the algors."

"The delver forced a small party of dwarves at a listening post to retreat. He did not stop to explain his actions or tell us where he would be. I imagine he has returned to his home. I do not know where that is."

Jon searched his memory. It caused him pain, but he recalled such facts which he unwittingly revealed to his captor. "He lived in Connel. That's where we met before we went to Sanctum. He also said something about Burbon. He said he had to go there to explain things to some humans."

Strog nodded appreciatively. Two targets, not dozens. Connel was large, fitted with a human army according to his own information, but Burbon was small and relatively unprotected.

Jon clung to his hope. He turned his attention back to Yave. "You will talk to Ryson. He will tell you, tell you it was the sphere, not the algors, and not me."

Strog placed himself in between Jon and the queen. He still needed more information. He could not afford to have the queen force an end to this conversation. He spoke quickly before Yave could respond on her own.

"He may do that, then again he may not. As I said, the last we saw of this delver friend of yours, he was attempting to help the algors against us. I still don't know why he would do that."

"Because he knows what you’re doing is wrong?"

"How would he know exactly what we're doing or why? He has not been to Dunop. How can you say he knows our intentions or our reasons?"

"He would hear of it. He is a delver. He thirsts for information."

"But how would he come about information like that? It doesn't make any sense to me. Unless of course you think he was spying on us? And if he was, why would he?"

"He wouldn't spy," Jon insisted. "He probably heard rumors."

Strog spoke quickly, pressing the matter to a head. "But this is not a rumor. He knew of a fact, he knew of our plans to attack. You ask us to speak to him, to allow him to convince us the algors deserve no blame. But how can we trust him, if it seems as if he has knowledge of secret plans? What if he had warned the algors? Many dwarves would have died. You have to explain how he knew this before we can trust any of his own explanations."

"I don't know how he found out. There were probably dwarves who told the elves."

"Why would dwarves tell elves of our plans?"

"Because it's wrong to attack the algors." Jon was going in circles. He was confused, exasperated.

"Do you know how far-fetched that sounds? Dwarves warning elves about our plans involving algors? I would never believe it. The delver must have been spying on us, thus he is an unreliable source of information."

"It's not far-fetched."

"It is! What dwarf would do such a thing as reveal secrets to the elves? Name one?"

The question hung in the air. It went unanswered. Again, only for a moment, Jon’s mind lost its confusion and Strog's desire was clear to Jon. He wanted names, names of dwarves he could list as traitors and publicly execute. Jon thought of Hern, his friend, his advisor, pierced through the heart because he condemned the actions of the true traitors. Jon knew, knew if he spoke a single name, he would condemn that dwarf to death. For the first time since being thrown in this cell, he felt that familiar twinge in his stomach. He felt the burden of knowing too much. He shook his head at Strog.

"No. I won't give you want you want. If you want to hang traitors, look no further than a mirror. And hang those that helped you." He looked to Yave. "Hang her as well."

Strog saw the conviction in Jon's expression. He would say no more. It didn't matter. He had gained enough. He had learned of the delver's territory. He would not have to spread his army thin to meet Yave's cravings for vengeance. He led the queen out of the cell and relocked the door.

Jon was left to his emptiness; an emptiness he wished had remained unbroken.

At Yave's order, Strog assembled his generals, and the queen addressed them with unyielding demands.

"The algors are not alone in their assault against us," she declared wild-eyed and snarling. "We have been targeted by others. It seems as if the elves of Dark Spruce are not happy with our arrangements. Perhaps they believe if we won't trade with them, they will simply steal from us. If you doubt me, know this; two elves were found trying to warn the algors of our plans. The only reason for this is obvious. They wish to gain allies in hopes of restoring their power over us. We will not allow this. Their interference is as much a declaration of war."

The dwarf generals murmured. They needed little encouragement to despise and distrust the elves. They were all from the separatist movement, and all believed in dwarf independence and superiority. Not one had ever felt comfortable with the trade arrangements made with the elves. Relying on them for food for their tables and wood for their fires made them as dependent as infants. It struck at their pride as well as their desire for independence. Now that they were in control, they had seen to the end of such dependence, but they would always remember the smugness of the elves, their arrogance. It did not surprise these generals that the elves would wish to continue their subjugation of the dwarves, and they would not question the validity of Yave's accusations.

Yave spoke on, unrelenting in her charges. "We have identified the elves, and they are indeed from Dark Spruce. It appears that our former trading partners will not allow us to simply end our dependence upon them. They have their reasons for wanting us to lose to the algors. These same elves now are left without a source of gems, gold, or iron. They are incapable of mining for themselves. Is it any wonder they would seek to sabotage our efforts? If they weaken us, they force us to renew our trade with them. If they attack us while our forces are occupied, they could march on Dunop and take whatever they desire."

The grumbles of the generals turned to outright denunciations of the elves.

"Never!"

"Over our corpses."

Yave nodded with a smirk. "That is my feeling exactly. That is why I have already ordered Strog to recall his army this day. We will not be unprepared for these unprovoked attacks against our independence. In fact, since the elves have made the first move of aggression in trying to ally with our enemies, we have no choice but to respond in kind. If we allow this action to go unpunished, the elves will still believe they can dictate their own rules upon us. Consider what might have happened if the elves' ploy was successful. According to the War Com, if the algors had been warned, hundreds of dwarf warriors would have been slain at their hands. This can only be what the elves wanted, why else would they seek to warn our enemies?"

Strog wished to speak out, to clarify the strategies, but the generals were filled with anger. They had no more love for the queen than he, but they hated the elves. Their emotions now blinded them. He remained silent, contemplating his true alternatives. He could only hope that Yave would agree to a single quick strike against the two human towns and the elves of Dark Spruce, then allow him to return to the algors. The thought of marching his army back and forth through the tunnels under the Lacobian desert disgusted him, but he had little choice. Yave was forcing this upon him, and all he could do was develop the best plans to deal with a now growing war.

He played over several strategies in his mind involving the deployment of his forces. He would send the bulk of his army and his finest men against Connel. The town was large, and though defended by a full garrison, the humans would be unprepared for the assault. The dwarves could pick their targets and would probably face little casualties. They would do great damage, but remain prepared to return to the Lacobian to finish off the algors. He could send a much smaller party against the town of Burbon and also do significant damage.

As for the elves, it was also best to send a smaller band of warriors, make it look like a group of renegades as opposed to an organized force. This might keep the elves guessing as to the reasons behind the attack and stall any concerted offensive on their part against Dunop.

As Strog mulled over these strategies, Yave had continued with her harangue against the elves. The generals were now calling for the blood of the elves, just as Yave added another enemy to their list.

"I am afraid it does not end there," she growled. "The elves did not act alone. A delver was with them to warn the algors. I need not remind you that delvers live with humans. But I ask you why would a delver concern himself with our dealings? Could it be he knows of our reserves of gold and gems? We all know of the humans' greed. If they see an opportunity to steal from us, they will seize it. Thus, we are alone and face many enemies. There is but one thing we can do. We must fight."

The generals agreed with shouts and war cries, all save Strog. His silence did not go unnoticed. Yave brought the attention of the others down upon him.

"As I have said, I have asked the War Com to recall our army. It is now time he profess his strategies to deal with our many enemies."

Strog spoke evenly, but with a low grumbling voice. He mapped out his strategies and the deployment of his forces. His plans involving the humans were well received. The small force against the elves, however, was questioned vigorously by both Yave and the lower ranking generals. He defended his points with crisp strategy; tactics the queen scoffed at, but the generals embraced. They could not deny his basic assumptions and in the face of their agreement, even Yave was forced to submit.

The queen, however, remained intent upon having the last word. "So what do my generals say? Which of you will lead an attack against the elves of Dark Spruce?"

Each general volunteered save Strog. Yave picked one, then set her sights upon the War Com.

"You withheld. I can only surmise that means you wish to lead your troops against the humans. I shall allow you to lead the large force against Connel."

It was a calculated move, a direct affront against him. There was little to gain in leading this assault and much to lose. Since the strength of the army would be under his command, Strog would be expected to win and win easily. There would be little honor or glory won in even the most convincing of victories. Any sufficient dwarf casualties or failures to impose severe damage to the human city would be viewed in total disgrace. Strog saw this for what it was, but refused to react. He accepted the command with a nod.

Chapter 8

Twilight in Burbon. The moon would be in quarter phase, but it had not yet risen above the horizon. A full harvest moon would have given enough light to read by, but that was still several days away. Fading light in the west left the sky a deep dark blue, not quite the black of night. Most stars remained blanketed out of sight, only a few bright ones in the east were visible. The air was dry but cold, even for dusk in the harvest season, the wind absent. The scent of many fires from a host of chimneys filled the streets. The plumes of smoke drifted lazily about rooftops, wafting in the air with no particular place to go.

The dwarves broke through the surface in a dirt alley between a private residence and a shoemaker’s shop. Covered in dirt from digging their access tunnel and dressed in black battle dress, they faded easily into the shadows. Dark chest plates protected their stout bodies, horned battle helmets covered their wide heads. They appeared like small, dirty tanks moving silently through this dark passage of Burbon. Broad shouldered and armed with axe, broadsword, and mace, they spilled upwards from the hole in the ground. They took to several diamond shaped formations and remained silent and unmoving until each was in ready position.

They were not seen, not by citizens and not by Burbon's guard. The soldiers were busy watching for goblins at the clearing outside the wall. The human troops stood in the towers and at the gates. They remained alert, but their patrols were designed to catch threats before they reached the wall. The guard could not have guessed an enemy was already inside and ready to strike.

As for the ordinary citizens of Burbon, most were already off the streets. Though they had faith in Sy and Enin, the thought of goblin raiding parties kept them from unnecessary evening travel and most remained in their homes. Shades covered windows. Those that were uncovered revealed the blazing glow of hearth fires. Only a few souls braved the dark, and these lonely travelers moved quickly to the taverns and inns. They had no desire to walk along aimlessly or to lengthen their route to enjoy the clear harvest night. They chose direct paths and well lit streets. Since the shoemaker's shop was closed, no one ventured near this particular dark alley.

The dwarf commander in charge of this attack considered his situation and the means to achieve his objectives. He was to cause major casualties to the human guard, to destroy their military headquarters as well as any weapon stores, and relieve the humans of their food supplies. Underground listening posts had identified and located most of the targets. The office of the captain was located near the center of town, as were many general stores. The dwarf commander now had his strike force above ground, covered in the darkness and in formation. He need only make his way to the guard headquarters to achieve the better part of his objectives. His eyes narrowed. Accustomed to the relative darkness of his underground home of Dunop, he saw well into the night.

Most of Burbon's streets were well-lit with flaming lamps. Only side alleys remained bathed in darkness. The main roads were straight and clear of obstruction. The dwarves would have to venture into the light of the lamps if they wished to reach the city center. There were only meager shadows and even less cover. The commander lifted his arm and waved to the opposite end of his formation. A dwarf sentry moved across the alley to make his report.

"Human guards spotted near the wall. They are moving away from us, watching the perimeter. Four towers with full complements accounted for. All watching outside the wall. Fifth tower out of my sight. Sixth tower incomplete, no platform, and no guard. Inspection of either the north or south gate impossible at this time."

The sentry waited for further orders.

The commander whispered his instructions, but with no less bark of authority. "Take two axe men. Return to the tunnel. Take the second exploratory tunnel and resurface near the sixth tower. Chop the support beams of the unfinished platform. When it collapses, return here."

The sentry did not delay. He tapped two dwarves upon the shoulder before diving back into the tunnel. The two dwarves followed obediently.

Enin stood near the south gate. His attention remained focused beyond the wall, upon his magic web that covered the blind spot in the hills. The wizard had recast the spell only moments ago, and the web was restored to full power. It was ready to catch its intended prey, but Enin truly doubted it would be necessary. Since Ryson had left, there were no further signs of goblins, or of the serp and the shag. The wizard felt nothing, sensed nothing. If there were goblins out there, they were far in the hills. They were certainly not near his web or he would have sensed them. Enin felt secure enough to consider what he had learned about the web spell. Though several guards stood around him, he spoke openly to himself of altering the spell in another form.

"I thought of a spider, like a spider, and I created a web. Combining a trap with a warning. Stronger spells of the same kind could be very helpful to us. It's good to be warned of an enemy, but even better to trap it before it can cause any harm."

The soldiers nodded. Certainly their jobs would be easier, safer, if Enin could trap the goblins before a battle ensued. Nearly every guard there had faced the hail of crossbow fire. A few had been hit in the arms and shoulders. Perhaps magic was a dangerous thing, but they'd welcome a spell which would remove them from harm’s way.

Enin paid them little attention. He focused on his own calculations as he continued to speak of them aloud. "A web is nice for small areas, but it can be avoided. I could probably enlarge the web, but that would take more energy. It would also lock us in as well as locking others out. We couldn't get to the fields, merchants couldn't enter the gates. No, that won't do. It has to be something that identifies a true threat and only stops that. That's an interesting thought. A spell that can identify as well as trap and warn. Now that would be a great spell. I wonder how much power it would take. What would it be like? A circling wind. It would pass around the walls constantly. When it touched someone, it would identify, and then, decide whether to strike. Like a hunter wind! I don't know if that's possible. I wonder if it can attune to the different way the magic surrounds everyone. The goblins have a different aura of magic. What if the spell could react to that specific aura? That might actually work. It would take time. I'd really have to know what makes the magic around the goblins different. But the wind idea is a good one. It could sweep around gently until it hits a goblin, then it could alter into something more powerful, like a tornado, trapping the goblin at its center."

A familiar voice called out to interrupt the wizard's concentration. "Thinking of more ways to trap our friends out there? That's good. I like to hear it."

Enin snapped from his thoughts to see Sy walking up to him. The captain clapped him on the shoulder.

"I was just thinking about variations of my web spell." Enin explained. "Spells like that can be quite useful."

"I know. Did you recast the web?"

"Yes, just a few moments ago."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. It really doesn't take much energy."

"Well don't exhaust yourself," the captain advised. "I'm not too worried about tonight. My men have been briefed. I've been going around to each post and no one has seen a thing. All the lamps are lit in the clearing and the sky's clear. There's no sign of any movement. The tower guards are reporting all clear. I think when the serp ran into Ryson, it knew it would have to delay any plans for a raid. How about you? Have you sensed anything out there?"

Enin was not allowed to answer. A crash from the southeastern edge of town broke the silence of the night, not quite an explosion, but loud enough to shake the windows of most of the shops. Silence followed for but a brief moment. Quickly after, calls shot out from all over town. Shutters were opened by worried, yet curious, townspeople. The fading light was not sufficient to reveal the source of the clamor from the ground, and questions rang out from the night.

"What was that?" Enin questioned.

The guards came to the ready as Sy took immediate control.

He called first to the guard perched in the tower. "Report."

"The new tower's collapsed. No sign of any other activity."

"Any fire?"

"None."

"Any street lamps out, any sections of town dark?"

The guard scanned the town spread out below him. "All lamps lit."

"Signal the other towers. Tell them to maintain watch."

The tower guard lit a long torch and waved it high above his head. A special sequence of movements relayed the message.

Sy caught Enin's attention. "Is the web still in place?"

"Yes," the wizard mumbled with confusion. "It's intact. I know it is. It hasn't been broken at all. I don't understand. I don't feel anything. There can't be any goblins around, I don't feel them!"

"Relax!" Sy ordered. "We don't know what's out there. All we know is the tower collapsed. It's under construction. Anything could have caused it. We have to check it out."

He shouted out again to the tower guard. "Signal the perimeter patrol. I want them to meet me at the new tower. Everyone else stays at their post." He then turned back to Enin. "I want you to go back to command HQ. Assemble all reserves. Wait there until you get a signal, or until I come back for you."

Sy watched the tower guard finish his last set of signals before giving his final orders. "Tower guard! Keep your eyes on the clearing. Make sure no one crosses it. No one gets to or past the wall." He then instructed the gate soldiers which numbered twice as many as normal. "I want three men to come with me. You, you and you. The rest of you stay here. The gate remains closed no matter what. No one gets through."

Sy did not run off in haste. He checked his weapons first, bid his soldiers to do the same. The minor pause brought a sense of ease to those that watched him. They saw he remained in total control. It settled their own nerves. His sword remained sheathed as he carefully set off toward the sight of the disturbance. He stepped quickly, deliberately, but he showed no sign of panic. He carefully eyed all passage ways he crossed. When he spotted townspeople on their porches or worse, in the streets, he politely but firmly ordered them back inside. When the collapsed tower came clearly into sight, he slowed his pace.

"Fan out," he whispered and his soldiers obeyed. He stepped up to the collapsed remains first, carefully avoiding any large pieces which might be hiding a goblin ambush. He stood motionless for long periods as he listened for any signs of intruders. Nothing. His sight moved from the broken wood and swept across the immediate surroundings. Nothing caught his attention until the perimeter patrol moved up from the west.

He chucked a heavy sigh. "I don't think there's anything here. I want to know why this thing fell."

The guards began to inspect the tattered wood as Sy stepped up with authority to the closest house. He knocked gently. "Sy Fenden here. No sign of a threat out here. I need to speak to someone."

A curtain ruffled at a side window before an elderly man opened the door.

Sy spoke quickly but with a calming tone. "It seems there was an accident. Sorry to disturb you. Did you see anything?"

The man appeared off sorts, trying to come to grips with what he might or might not have seen. "I don't know."

"What don't you know?" Sy asked calmly.

"I'm not sure what I saw."

"Describe it."

"A couple of shadows running from the tower after it collapsed. They just disappeared."

"Can you be more specific? Were they human, did you think they might have been goblins?" Sy didn't want to alarm the man, but human shapes would certainly look different as compared to goblins. "What size were these shadows?"

"They were short, but not that short. They were big, too."

Sy held back a sigh of exasperation. "They were short, but they were big?"

"I mean they were broad. Not like goblins at all."

Sy shook his head. He thought he might have understood. "Thank you for your help. I wouldn't worry about it. Please go back inside for now."

Sy walked wearily over to his soldiers. "It seems we have some pranksters in our midst. Kids. I guess it is that time of year again. I would have hoped our people would have left the mischief to the real goblins, but it looks like a couple of 'em just couldn't resist."

A soldier inspecting a support beam interrupted Sy's explanation. "Captain? Can you come and take a look at this?"

Sy nodded and stepped over to a thick block of wood that jutted up from the ground. He did not like what he saw.

The soldier's explanation did little to ease any worries. "Sir, this is the main support column of the tower. I helped place it in the ground myself. It didn't break, it was cut. And I don't mean chopped down, I mean sliced. It looks as if one axe blade went right through it with one swing. There's no kid in Burbon that can do that. I don't know if there's any man that could make that kind of clean cut with one chop."

Sy saw the same thing, but he wanted to confirm it. "Are you sure? Could it have been done with a saw?"

"There's no saw dust. And we would have heard it. The grinding from a saw would have echoed out long before this thing fell over. No, someone was able to cut through this thing with one axe swing."

Sy considered the power for such a feat. He thought of the shag. Only problem with that was the man saw a couple of short shadows. Shags were never short.

"What in Godson's name is going on here?" He quickly checked his momentary lapse of control. He growled firm orders. "Everyone draw your swords. Spread out and check the ground for prints. I can't tell you what to expect, just look for anything out of the ordinary."

The soldiers stiffened with readiness. The air filled with the swish of drawn swords. They took to a spread formation as they carefully scoured the ground. Immediately, one guard called out.

"Over here."

Sy moved to the soldier. "The rest of you stay in position. Stand ready." Sy found the tracks pointed out by the soldier. He found two other trails, all moving in the same direction. He followed them slowly. They disappeared into the ground. Carefully, he patted the soil where the tracks stopped. The dirt was loose. He took a dagger from his waistband and pressed the fine point into the ground. The dirt gave way and revealed an entrance to an underground tunnel. Immediately, Sy called out more orders. "I want eight men, now!"

Eight soldiers moved up to the hole in the ground. They waited impatiently for their orders.

Sy pointed to the hole. "Whatever wrecked our tower escaped down this hole. I don't expect them to come back, but I want it covered. I want three of you to form a circle around here. The other five I want circled further back around the first three. If something tries to come out, order it to stop. If it comes out, order it to stay put. If it moves to attack, defend yourselves. If it turns to go back down, let it. Under no circumstances are you to go down the hole. The rest of you, come with me."

The dwarf commander waited for the return of his axe men that collapsed the tower. The entire strike force remained as still as statues, bathed in the darkness. While the town's attention fixed upon the confusion, the axe men returned without casualty. The commander ordered for reports on all human guard activity. They were mixed. The collapse of the tower had diverted attention, but most of the guards remained at their posts. The main patrol had been dispatched to the diversion, but the tower and gate guards remained on alert and in position. The commander grudgingly gave respect to the human in charge.

"He is keeping his forces well deployed," he growled. "By dispatching only a small patrol to investigate our diversion, he maintains control of key points of the town. We must remain careful of being outflanked. Still, they watch outside the walls. They do not know of our full presence. We must move now. To the demons with their lamp lights. If we are spotted, we attack."

With a final grunt, the dwarf motioned for his strike force to move out. They remained in diamond formations, but they spread out to cover the full width of the wider streets which would lead to the town center. They moved slowly, but quietly. As guard posts were placed on the outskirts of the city and not around the town center, the attack party moved without obstacle toward their prearranged objectives.

Sy reached command HQ before the dwarves. He found Enin waiting outside with a complement of thirty soldiers. They stood with swords in hand, agitated and waiting for news.

Sy spoke directly to the wizard, moving straight to his point. "I don't think we're dealing with goblins, serps, or shags for that matter. The tower was brought to the ground by someone cutting the support columns, someone strong, very strong and capable with an axe. A witness said they were short, and they disappeared into the ground. They escaped through a tunnel, a long tunnel, one that was probably built in the time you and I shave. You know what description that fits?"

"Dwarves," Enin replied quickly.

"Exactly. From what Ryson has told us, it has to be. That tunnel wasn't there when construction of the tower began. No one else could dig that quickly. But now we get to the difficult questions. Where are they, what do they want, and why did they destroy our tower?"

Enin mulled over the points with confusion. "You said they escaped down a tunnel. Does that mean they're gone?"

"I have no idea where that tunnel leads. They could still be inside the walls, or far away from here. They could be above ground or still in the tunnel. I'm certainly not going to send any men down there to check on it. That would be a death sentence. What do you sense, anything?"

Enin shook his head. "Nothing, nothing at all."

"I don't know if that does us any good. They were inside the wall when they collapsed the tower. Their tracks are proof of that. You were at the south gate. That's not that far, and you didn't sense them then."

"I know. I don't know what to make of it."

"I don't either and that's why I still have to question whether they still might be within the walls. I also have to wonder what they were doing here. Ryson told us they were going to war with the algors. Nothing was said about possible hostilities against us."

"Maybe they are searching for allies," Enin offered. "Maybe they want our help."

"Allies don't destroy towers. Now why would they do that? I have only one possible explanation, and it's not one I relish. That tower had no strategic significance, it wasn't finished. The only reason I would collapse it would be to create a diversion."

"A diversion for what?"

"That's what I need to know." Sy stopped. His attention shifted to his left. "It looks like we're going to find out. They're in the streets!"

Enin looked off down the same lit corridor. He saw the nearly indistinguishable shapes of several short, stout men trying to evade the light. Nothing within him told him that these invaders were anything out of the ordinary. "I sense nothing."

"I guess your magical alert doesn't work with dwarves," Sy responded before quickly whispering orders to a nearby soldier. The soldier disappeared in the opposite direction of the dwarves.

"What did you say to him?" Enin asked quietly.

"I told him to alert the tower and gate guards of what we've got here. We may need reinforcements."

The dwarf commander kept his force in the same diamond formations with himself at the point of the center group. This put him in the middle of the wide street which led toward the human command post. His eyes, well accustomed to the dark, spotted every human soldier ahead, regardless of the shadows of night. He counted thirty, a larger group than he expected. He also had to walk in the open, through lit streets, but he believed he held the advantage. The human guard held swords, the only true mistake of his counterpart, but a grave mistake none the less. If the humans were going to face them in hand-to-hand combat, the battle would be over before it began. His forces moved unimpeded toward the heart of the town. This was indeed too easy.

Sy tensed with questions. Armed dwarves moving towards his position was not something he had ever dealt with before. He knew so little about his enemy. Why were they there? The dwarves showed no sign of stopping, and they moved with axe and mace ready for combat. Yet, to his knowledge, Burbon had done nothing to warrant an attack.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered to Enin. "They're walking right up to us. I don't even know what they want. I can't let them continue without knowing their intentions."

"What can you do? You're not thinking of attacking, are you? You don't want to start a war."

"Absolutely not. That's why I haven't given the order to attack. They may be here just to talk. I guess there's only one way to find out. You men keep ready. I don't know what may happen here."

Sy took a step forward. The dwarves were easily in shouting distance, about forty paces away. Sy called out with authority. "Please hold your position and be identified."

The dwarves kept moving.

"I am Sy Fenden, captain of the guard. I need to know your intentions."

Not a dwarf spoke. They advanced at exactly the same pace as before.

"Your approach is threatening to us. We do not wish to fight."

The dwarf commander gave his reply in the form of a hand signal to his forces. The back half of the diamond formation broke. The dwarves in the rear moved up to the front, forming an angled wedge with the point directed at the human captain. They broke into a battle run, but they were not fast by any stretch of the imagination.

Sy had more than enough time to react. His first command was a surprise to his men. "Everyone fall back, back into HQ."

Most men moved without hesitation, but a few stared at the wedge of dwarves and wondered why Sy had not ordered them to break the formation.

Sy repeated his order angrily. "Inside, now!"

This time, each soldier acknowledged. Quickly but orderly, the thirty soldiers filed through the door of the brick command post. Sy waited by the door. When all his men were inside, he threw the thick oak door closed and bolted it.

"Cover the windows. If they start to come in, call out. I need ten men at the door."

Enin spoke his confusion. "What are you doing?"

"I still don't know what they want. I'm not ready to get into a battle, not just yet. I'm giving them one more chance before they force my hand. They have axes and that's a wooden door. If they really want to attack us, they'll chop right through it. At least then, I'll have no other choice but to order our defense. This will also give our reinforcements a chance to get here." Sy turned to one of the guards. "Get on the roof. Signal the towers. I want all the tower and gate watches to divide, half stay at their post, the other half I want here. Go!"

Outside, the dwarves were ordered to a full halt before they reached the command building. Sy's retreat surprised the dwarf commander. He expected the humans to either arrogantly attack the wedge or to stand stupidly about and meet their fate with blank expressions. The command post was made of brick, and though it was not worthy of dwarf construction, it would hold against several mace blows. The door was another matter. It would fall quickly.

He kept his force in close formation rather than spreading out about the building. He ordered one dwarf to quickly circle the command post. There was no other door. Since dwarves lived underground and always considered what was over their head, the commander then looked to the roof. He stepped back and saw the human soldier make his signal.

"Very good," the commander mused. "He wants us to go to the door. He'll have his men waiting there on the inside. We break through the door and fight to get through a narrow passage way. Just when we break his force, reinforcements would hit us from behind. He would probably sacrifice his own life in the process, but we would be trapped."

The dwarf commander pointed to an axe man. He ordered the destruction of the door.

Inside the command post, Sy positioned himself with a contingent of ten men to meet the dwarves right at the archway. The dwarves would only be able to fit two through at a time. The odds would be even better for his men. They all watched the door, waited for the inevitable.

The first blow of the axe split the door, but did not shatter it. The second sent wood flying in every direction. Sy tensed to meet the assault, but no dwarf advanced through the opening. He scanned what he could see through the broken space that used to be the door. There was no sign of the dwarves. He said nothing. He pointed to a guard near a window. He motioned for him to look outside. The guard shook his head revealing he saw nothing. The clang of steel from outside threw Sy into even greater confusion. He stepped carefully up to the doorway.

Outside, the dwarves were back in their wedge formation and carving through a group of reinforcements like woodcutters through soft wood. The human reinforcements were careless, misinterpreting the dwarves’ small stature as a sign of weakness. They attacked before Sy could stop them. They believed their superior numbers and size would lead to easy victory. They were massacred.

Sy cursed, but in that split second he managed to assess the dwarves’ battle strengths. Fighting them with swords was near useless. Moving in close quarters allowed the dwarves to use their short arms to meet the attack. The dwarf axes were breaking the sword blades as if they were made of glass.

Sy adjusted his plans in the snap of a finger and gave his orders with the same quick deliberation. "Grab spears and get outside."

The men sheathed their swords and quickly pulled spears from the weapon racks. They followed Sy outside as he ordered the reinforcements to fall back. "Break off! Break off! Don't get close to them. Spread out. Use your speed; force them to come to you."

As more reinforcements appeared, Sy ordered them to retrieve new weapons as well. As his force now totaled nearly one hundred men, all armed with spears, he ordered them into position. "Spread out! Surround them. Don't get close. If they move up to you, jab them in the face. Use the length of the spear. Everybody moves!"

The dwarf commander grunted with dissatisfaction. He had killed over twenty humans in the small skirmish, but now the larger body of the force was before him. He knew his objectives, and he would not suffer a defeat to these despicable creatures. He ordered his force to alter their formation. They formed a tight circular cluster. He would press his assault all night if need be. He would wear the humans down, they could not run forever, but he received one more surprise.

Enin stood behind the spread circle of guards. His hands stretched out to the skies. Power sparked about his wrists. The familiar white spheres returned and they flashed with brilliance, brighter than any nearby lamplight. He whispered words to the night air. His arms spun and the magic danced. The two intertwining spheres of energy rotated and grew. Never before had he used so much energy, never before had he allowed so much to flow out of his core. His knees wobbled. He fought the growing weakness in his arms. The power grew with fury. The spheres flared and small rumbles, like distant thunder, rolled off of his palms. With one last conscious thought, he whispered another word and threw his arms at the dwarves.

The magic exploded from him. Guards that stood next to him were knocked off their feet. The spheres rotated about as they merged together and formed a large translucent dome. It fell upon the dwarves with a force that shook the ground. They were encapsulated in a glowing but clear force field.

The dwarves angrily struck at it. Their axe blades bounced off without making the slightest dent. They were trapped, each and every one. The dwarf commander growled.

Enin mumbled a command. "Throw your spears."

Sy immediately ordered two soldiers to do so. The spears cut through the night and then through the force field. They penetrated the barrier with ease. One embedded itself in the arm of a dwarf, the other bounced off the chest plate of a second target. The force field stood with no sign of entry holes. Sy held his men's desire to strike quickly. He directed them to do so with patience. He also gave the dwarves an opportunity to surrender.

"You don't have a chance. You can't get to us, but we can get to you. Drop your weapons and surrender."

The dwarf commander finally spoke. "Never."

"Fine," Sy replied and pointed to two soldiers. They moved up carefully, picked their targets, and let their spears fly. Two more wounded dwarves.

The dwarf commander sneered, but would not surrender. He ordered his men to dig.

Sy marveled at the speed in which they worked. Some of the dwarves had retrieved tunneling tools from their packs while others were simply digging with their hands and their weapons. A ditch quickly turned into a pit, which was quickly turning into an escape tunnel. The removed dirt began to pile around the sides giving the dwarves even more cover. Sy ordered more spears to stop them, but it only slowed them. A few more dwarves were wounded, but soon they were out of sight and range.

Enin collapsed and the barrier dome disintegrated with his consciousness.

Sy stepped up to the dwarf-made tunnel. It extended beyond his sight. He ordered his men to spread out around town to make sure they did not break through the surface within the wall, but there was no further sign of the dwarves that evening.

Chapter 9

Enin awoke on a cot in command HQ. Morning light cascaded through the shattered front door. A cold autumn wind drifted in behind it. Sy stood at the far end of the room looking over a map of the city. The wizard struggled to sit up. He coughed.

Sy looked over to his groggy friend. He put down the map and walked over to the edge of the small bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Empty. Tired." was the exhausted reply.

"Your spell saved us."

"What happened? I don't remember much."

"They couldn't break out from the barrier you cast. They ended up digging through the ground. We inflicted a good amount of damage to them while they tried to escape. I guess they thought they were in no shape for another round. They didn't resurface anywhere in the city. This morning, I sent a few men down some of the tunnels. Not very far. Just far enough to see where they go and to see if they heard anything. They all seem to lead back out toward the hills, and I think they're all empty. I've given orders to collapse each of them. Wouldn’t stop the dwarves the way they dig, but might slow them down a bit."

"How many men did we lose?"

Sy stiffened his back. "Thirty."

Enin's shoulders drooped.

Sy felt the same. "I know. I know. It's more than just a waste. This is all becoming a tragedy. I keep wondering what I've done wrong, but I don't have any answers. I just don't know what else I could have done. What's worse is I don't know how to prevent this thing in the future. It seems these dwarves can dig tunnels from here to the hills in half a day. How do I stop them from just popping up anywhere? The wall and the towers helped us against the goblins, but they seem pretty much useless now. All I can think to do is to post more soldiers, but now I have to station guards in the streets as well as around the wall. Tower guards have to watch the town as well as the clearing. I'm going to run out of men."

"It's my fault," Enin professed. He dropped his head back into the pillow, an act of resignation to his own self-doubts.

Sy shook his head. He had spent much of the night analyzing the events which led to the battle. He had gone over the stationing of his soldiers, their responses to his orders, his own tactics. He was not about to place fault with one person or with one decision. "There's enough blame for everybody. No one individual can take full responsibility."

Enin held to his own conclusion. "I can. I should have sensed them. It's been my job to warn you of attacks before they happen. Everybody counted on me. They got right up to me and I still didn't sense them." He pounded his fist on the mattress. "Why couldn't I feel them? They're not humans. How could they get so close? What's wrong with me?"

Sy shook his head. "I can't answer that because I don't understand the magic in the first place. I do understand that I should have been prepared for something like this. In the last season we've seen more than one strange thing. Why is it so surprising to either of us that these dwarves avoid your senses? I don't know why you weren't able to sense them, but I know it doesn't make it your fault. It's not like you were asleep on duty. You were out checking the streets just like me. What else could you have done?"

"I should have sensed them," Enin held to his self-incrimination.

"But you weren't able to. That's my point. What do we know of these dwarves? Very little, I can tell you that. Maybe they just have the power to shield themselves from your senses. It's not like it would be the only difference between them and us." Sy looked away, looked to the broken remains of the front door. Only a small portion of wood hung at one hinge. The rest of the shattered remains had been swept up earlier that morning. "You saw what they were able to do. They're damn strong, unbelievably strong. Who could have thought any of this would be happening?"

His own words rang too true in his ears. Sy shook his head as he considered all the circumstances brought to bear upon them. The enormity of it all was almost too much for a sane man to handle.

"Godson, this is crazy. Goblins, shags, and now dwarves. This is insanity. I keep thinking that this is some bad dream that I'm going to wake up from. Was it so long ago that things were normal? It's hard for me to believe my own job sometimes. I mean, think about it. Over the past season, the majority of my time was spent preventing goblin raids. Goblin raids, for Godson's sake! Say something like that this time last season and I would have been run out of town as a loon."

"You and me both. Look at me," Enin sighed. "How do you think I feel? I'm a wizard."

"Don't knock it. I, for one, am damned thankful for what you can do. That's the only thing that's allowed this town to survive, you and our friend the delver."

Enin gladly grasped the thread of another topic. "Speaking of Ryson, how do you think he's doing?"

"I don't know." Sy brought a hand to his chin as he considered the delver's mission. "I wonder. You know, I haven't thought about it until just now, but I'm beginning to think Ryson's trip and our difficulties last night are connected in some way."

"Hmmm?" Enin puzzled.

"Well, doesn't it seem odd that the delver went out to warn algors about a dwarf war just before we were attacked, also by dwarves."

"Other than the dwarves, what else is the connection?"

"I don't know, but it seems too much to be just a coincidence. I can't help thinking that we're now all involved in the same thing. Maybe this war he spoke of has spread or maybe it's something else. "

"You think Ryson might have been lured from us on purpose?"

Sy just shrugged. "I don't know what to think. If he was lured away, I have to ask why. The dwarves might have been afraid of his speed, or his sword. More likely they might have worried he would hear their digging before they could break through the surface. That, at least, seems plausible. I don't know why it was an elf that came to get him. Maybe the elf was in on it or maybe he was tricked as well. But it doesn't answer why the dwarves attacked us in the first place. What did they want?"

"Perhaps they think we are a threat, perhaps they are just war-like creatures. I don't know anything about the dwarves. I should have tried to read their minds." Enin began to consider how to do such a thing. As often happened, his attention drifted from the topic at hand to the possibility of a new spell. "I wonder how I would go about that. It seems to be fairly common. I've heard of wizards able to cast such a spell. They can see thoughts, not deep hidden ones, not secrets, but they can often read what is being actively considered. I should know this spell. I know it’s just a mix of a basic sight and awareness link. Just let your own thoughts ride the waves of the magic with a sight spell attached. Direct it at thought rather than at seeing. I wonder if it would work on dwarves."

"You can try it the next time they show up, which I hope is never," Sy stated firmly.

Sy's voice brought Enin out of his spell searching thought. He looked about the small cot and decided to rise. He slowly rolled on his hip and threw his legs over the side of the mattress. He labored to his feet. His muscles did not ache, but a weakness penetrated his limbs. He yawned heavily, drinking in the air as well as the magic held within it. The spell he had cast drained him of most of his magical energies, his body was now in the process of recharging. He stretched out his arms first, then his legs as he walked across the room to the maps spread out about the table.

"What are you doing with these?"

Sy pointed to certain marked spots. "I'm trying to pick the best places to put guards in the town. I can't put them on every street, but then again I have to cover every section. If these dwarves can tunnel right under us, they can come up anywhere. The only other thing I can think of is to rig the ground so it would collapse if they tunnel in certain areas. I have some miners out looking at the tunnels before they're filled. Hopefully, they'll have some suggestions for us."

"So, you do think they'll be back?"

"I see no reason to believe they won't," Sy admitted heavily. "The question is how to stop them. If they send more warriors, spread them out, we'll be in a whole lot of trouble."

"Should we ask for help?"

"You mean from Connel? I don't know how they'd feel about that. I doubt they'd send men. If they hear about what happened to us, they'll keep every available soldier for their own protection. They may allow us to come live with them under their protection, but I doubt too many of our citizens would even agree to that. No one wants to be a refugee. They'd know what would be waiting for them. Tent cities, crowded unsanitary conditions. They'd have to leave their homes here. I doubt it would happen. I think those who would leave have left a long time ago. What they'd probably be more willing to do is enlist to help save their homes, and that's what I'm going to offer to them. It's really the only solution I can think of."

A goblin sentry stood uneasily within the confines of the shag's den. The serp was not in, and thankfully neither was the shag, but they were due back any moment. The goblin waited uncomfortably. Every instinct called for it to run from this grotto. A shag feeding cave was no place for a goblin, but it was now the adopted home of his serp commander. While his fears called for him to leave, a buzzing in the back of his meager brain bid him to stay.

Footsteps, heavy thuds, announced the shag that escorted the serp. The goblin bristled with fear. Only the sight of Sazar kept it in place. The hypnotic eyes of the serp mesmerized the goblin, the fear of the shag drifted away into the background. It was still present, but the goblin no longer felt the need to run for its very life.

Sazar stepped directly in front of the goblin. His snake-like eyes penetrated the creature. "I was told you have a report for me."

The serp's voice soothed the goblin. The small creature was able to respond even as the shag stood within arm's reach. The goblin's voice was rough and tired. "Last night there was activity within the human compound. There were many signals from the towers. I heard screams and sounds of battle."

The serp probed the emotions of the goblin. He cast his doubts upon the creature to test its certainty. "I have no report of anyone entering the town last night. The gates were closed."

"No one entered through the gates," the goblin repeated Sazar's fact.

"They fought among themselves?"

"No, they fought with dwarves."

The serp looked ever deeper into the eyes of the goblin. "You are sure of this? Absolutely?"

"I saw the dwarves myself this morning, just before dawn. They came up from an underground tunnel very near my position. There were many wounded. They ran off to the woods."

"In which direction?"

"The southwest."

"They are from Dunop," Sazar said to himself. He turned from the goblin as he reflected on his own thoughts. "I have heard rumors of rebellion in this city. Now they attack the humans. Interesting."

Sazar turned back to the goblin. "You saw the exit but you didn't say you saw them enter."

"No."

"They might have entered from another point. What was the first thing you saw?"

"The signals in the tower. I saw little after that. Before the signals I heard a large crash. I am not sure what it was."

"It was their new tower," Sazar announced. "I received another report that it was demolished last night. I already checked that for myself. I could not understand why the humans would do such a thing. They know of the blind spot. Their wizard cast that cursed web spell to temporarily cover it. The tower would have removed it permanently. Now, I know why. The humans did not destroy it, the dwarves did. Probably a diversion on their part. What happened after the signals?"

The goblin struggled for certainty of memory. "A pause, and then the sound of battle. I could not see. I was far from the wall."

"What next?"

"Nothing. I waited for more signs. Much later I saw the dwarves surface and take off for the woods. I came to report to you after that."

"Take me to this escape tunnel."

The goblin gladly and quickly departed the cave. To his dismay, the shag followed Sazar and would accompany them to the site of the tunnel. The goblin pointed to the dwarf escape point. It was roughly covered, a quick and untidy job.

"They were in a hurry," Sazar hummed as he pressed against the covering with his foot. Dirt gave way under the pressure and the hole opened up. "Normally, dwarves would do a much better job in filling their tunnels. They were probably fighting time as well as their wounds. I doubt they wanted to get caught out here in the daylight. If they got to the trees, they would at least have cover. How many did you see?"

The goblin did not know how to count. He stammered as he tried to explain. "A small group, not too many, but more than would be needed to scavenge food."

The serp chuckled at the goblin’s short-comings. "I would guess that would be around two dozen, maybe a few more."

The goblin, not knowing what that meant, simply nodded.

Sazar looked to the wall of Burbon. "So a party of dwarves attacked the town. This just after their delver left with two elves. I know that relations are now very strained between the elves of Dark Spruce and the dwarves of Dunop. This is very interesting. Is it possible the dwarves were not happy with the delver? Did they come looking for him? If they rid the land of him, it would certainly do us a great favor. Still, there are other opportunities at hand."

Sazar looked into the tunnel. He ordered the goblin to climb down and investigate. The goblin showed no reservation at such a task. Goblins had no fear of small tunnels or the dark, and the descent would allow it distance from the shag.

"Do not go far. Simply tell me what you see. How far do you think it goes?"

"I can not see, it is very dark," the reply echoed from below.

Sazar sighed. He fished a very valuable item from his pocket. A light gem, a jewel which the dwarves used to reflect light down long tunnels. He had stolen it from one of the air shafts of Dunop. He held it out over the tunnel entrance. The gem absorbed the light, tightened it into a narrow beam, and finally directed it into the darkness within the hole.

"The tunnel goes farther than the light. It goes on, very long," the goblin finally reported.

"It probably extends all the way back to within the town." the serp observed. "The dwarves obviously did not take the time to collapse their escape route. Come back up here."

The goblin obeyed, left the security of the tunnel and again stood on an open hill side within reach of the shag. It stood nervously next to the hole, though, like a prairie dog waiting to dart back into its own tunnel if any sign of danger appeared.

Sazar virtually ignored the goblin. He looked back and forth from the tunnel to the town of Burbon. "We can make great use of this, but we should begin work immediately. The humans will no doubt attempt to fill in these tunnels. We can not have that, not completely anyway. We can collapse this tunnel ourselves, just beyond the wall's edge. They will think the dwarves were responsible and they will never find this portion of the tunnel. We can dig our own pathways from the point of collapse later. We will not be able to dig with the efficiency of the dwarves, but they have already performed the heart of the task. This tunnel will serve as access to a point under their wall."

Sazar turned to the shag. He grunted and growled, made signals with his hand. He pointed to the tunnel and then the town of Burbon. He mimicked the sight of the wall with his hands.

The shag grunted in response. In turned toward the goblin and began to step forward. The goblin cowered. Fear overtook it. It crouched, shaking uncontrollably.

Sazar sighed. "Move out of his way."

The goblin's eyes shifted from the shag to the serp and back again.

The shag stopped in front of it. It stared down on the creature with lifeless eyes.

Sazar had to repeat his order. "It's not going to eat you, it's going down the tunnel. You're in the way. Move aside."

The goblin jumped in obedience. The puffy swelled flesh around its eyes and cheeks seemed to sag in relief.

The shag leaped down the tunnel. It was a tight fit, but the monster was able to move along in a crouched position.

The serp pocketed the light gem. The shag would not need light. He turned to the goblin to give his next set of orders. "Our friend is going to follow the tunnel to a point just beyond the wall. He will collapse the tunnel at that point, breaking off the link between this portion of the tunnel and the section that leads above ground within the town. This tunnel will be ours, permanently. One day we will use it, but not today. I need to find out what is going on with these dwarves. You have done well this day. I am going to raise your rank. I want you to assemble a surveillance party. Take six goblins. You will go into Dark Spruce. Seek out the camps of the elves. Do not engage them. Stay away from their guards. Simply look and listen. Off with you."

The goblin ran off, filled with pride over achieving the praise, while Sazar considered the full breadth of the situation.

"There is no doubt this is all linked together. Rebellion in Dunop. A break in relations between the dwarves and elves. A dwarf attack on the humans after the town delver goes off toward the southwest."

Sazar's head snapped to the southwest. He thought of what waited beyond the trees, beyond the canyons.

"The Lacobian desert," he remarked gleefully. "The delver went with the elves to the Lacobian to find the algors. That completes the puzzle. Those that came together for a brief moment at Sanctum Mountain are now facing a new struggle. They succeeded in destroying Ingar's sphere together, but now their alliance appears to be falling apart. It will be interesting to see where this leads. Very interesting indeed."

"Retreated? They retreated?" Yave spouted a mix of anger and disbelief.

Strog grimaced. "They suffered many casualties. Two of the commandos have died from their wounds since returning home. Two more are doubtful. If they did not retreat, they might have all died."

"And how many casualties did they inflict?"

"The raid attack commander specifies that fifty humans were killed."

"Ha! He is lying."

"I would guess he might be exaggerating."

"Exaggerating?" Yave bellowed. "It is an out and out lie. You said before the attack the humans had maybe a force of two hundred men in Burbon. If they killed fifty, that was a quarter of the total force. I doubt they would have had to retreat."

Strog rubbed his hands together sullenly. "As I said, it does sound exaggerated. They did, however, inflict at least half that many casualties. I have interviewed the individual soldiers. They all have at least one confirmed kill. Some have two or more. I believe at least thirty humans have been killed."

"Just thirty? There was supposed to be over one hundred." Yave turned her ire directly upon Strog. "Was not that one of your own objectives handed down to this incompetent commander? You believed that one dwarf could easily account for at least five human casualties."

"The battle did not turn as I expected," Strog grumbled.

"Obviously not. And what of their other objectives? Did they destroy the human command post? Or the weapon supplies? Did they return with the human stores of food?"

"No," Strog grimaced. "The commander focused on decimating the human guard first. When that was not achieved, it was no longer possible to destroy the weapons or sack the town of its food supplies."

Yave placed the blame directly and without hesitation upon the War Com. "How is this possible? A well trained dwarf attack force defeated by an unsuspecting, untrained, and poorly equipped human army? A very small army! Isn't that what you called them? Isn't that why you said only a small force would be needed to attack Burbon?"

Strog, for the moment, bit back his flaring anger. He had to look away from the queen for a moment. He stared down at the thick stone table top and made his explanation under guarded breaths. "There were two factors I did not count on. It seems the captain of their guard was well versed on tactics. He deployed his forces with a battle savvy I would not have guessed a human to possess. If that were it alone, we still would have succeeded in our objectives. According to all reports, the battle was moving in our favor, but a magic caster intervened."

"A what?!" Yave's voice sizzled like bacon on a hot grill.

"A human wizard," Strog grunted. "I was not aware of this."

"A single wizard caused our defeat? Impossible. He would only be a novice. The cursed energy has not been loose long enough for a single magic caster to be any threat to us. We are resistant to magic, more so than any other race. What kind of spell could this human wizard cast which could affect us so?"

"We are resistant to direct magic assaults only. As always, we are as susceptible to indirect uses of the power as any other race, more so, because we can not cast spells of our own to counteract such powers. The human wizard trapped our war party in a barrier shell. They could not break out and were open to attack by the humans. Their captain ordered the use of spears and coordinated the attack well. It is as it's always been, had it not been for the magic, we would have won."

Yave growled with disgust. "I will not accept that!"

"You will have to. The magic was the only factor which was beyond our control. Look at our other two campaigns. There were no magic casters in either case, and in each case we were the victors. The force under my command dealt a severe blow to Connel. The humans had no idea of what hit them. It will take them many cycles to repair the damage we caused. Their forces have been significantly reduced, their army is in tatters. They would not dare attack now. What force remains will have to focus on defense. We destroyed many of their weapons, and relieved them of large portions of their food stores. They are no longer a threat.

"As for the elves, they are in confusion. Even now, they probably argue over why they were attacked. The dwarf commander in charge made every attempt to conceal the origin of his party. The elves will not know for sure if it was a force from Dunop or simply a renegade party with no home city. Many elves were wounded, some badly, food and wood were taken from them. Still, I doubt they can be sure it was us who attacked. Without that certainty, they can not justify an assault of their own against us. We have covered our flanks."

"But not with Burbon," Yave insisted with indignity.

"Burbon is no threat," the War Com insisted.

"No threat? They managed to defeat your battle force with relative ease. It is an embarrassment."

"I can not be expected to overcome magic casters."

"Excuses!"

Strog slammed his fist down on the table. "No! Not excuses. The truth! The magic does not serve us. The fact that it is released is a danger to us all. It is why you have the throne and not your son."

Yave's eyes flared. "Never say that again!"

Strog did not back down. His angry stare locked with the queen's. "Then do not question my strategies."

Yave was about to rage with acidic remarks, but Strog stopped her with a tone of command. "Against my better judgment, we have attacked the elves and the humans. This was your bidding, not mine. I was against this from the start, but as you are so quick to remind me, you are the queen. You have the authority but I am the War Com. If you do not like what is happening here, I will resign. As will the rest of my generals. We will leave you to handle all armed conflicts yourself. I will withdraw my men from your palace."

Yave bellowed. This brazen insignificant worm actually challenged her, defied her authority. She growled like a hungry tiger. "You dare! They are not your men, they answer to me. All of Dunop answers to me."

Strog again raised his fist, ready to smash it even harder against the table top. Had he let it fly, it most likely would have broken the stone, but he held it in the air. He stood on the brink of frustration, just as he recalled the truth of this unholy alliance. As it quelled his own anger, he professed it to the queen. "Let us stop this game. You are queen because of my forces. My forces remain in control of Dunop because you are queen. This truth is undeniable. As much as both of us may wish to deny it, we need each other. If we fail to recognize this, we will fail."

Yave grimaced. She was not as willing to concede that her authority was not absolute.

"You may fail, but I will not. It is best you remember that." Still, her voice lowered in tone and in challenge. She may not have openly acknowledged the truth professed by Strog, but there was a glimmer of acceptance. "You will remain the War Com and I will remain the queen. That means you will listen to what I want, and I will accept how you intend to bring us victory. And what I want now is to erase this embarrassment. I want Burbon laid to waste."

Strog groaned. "That is not a sound military objective. I tell you Burbon is not a threat to us."

For the first time in this meeting, Yave controlled her temper. She spoke with authority, but with the coldness of an ice flow. "Anyone that threatens our independence is a threat. The humans defeated us, they showed us to be weak. We must rectify this at once."

"There are other things to consider." Strog gritted his teeth and held his own impatience in check. "The algors remain in the desert. Their stronghold remains intact. Let me deal with them first."

Yave remained defiant against this suggestion. "You defeated the algors."

"Not completely. That is what you must consider here. Many of the algors remain alive. By ignoring them, we invite an attack on our flanks. As long as enough live to create an army, they remain a threat."

"I don't think so. Do you really think the algors would dare to attack us? They would be no match for us in our home tunnels." For the first time, Yave spoke the truth of her desires, admitted the purpose of keeping the algors alive. "Besides, I want some of them to survive, at least for a little while. I want them to think about what they've done and to know what it has brought them. If they still linger in their mountain in the desert, let them wait a little longer. Let them ponder their crimes and ponder the justice of the dwarf."

For a moment, the thought of the algors suffering calmed the queen. She took pleasure in her victory. Yet, at the same time, she quickly considered her defeat, her embarrassment. He voice grew colder still.

"It is the humans that are jubilant." She spat her judgments out like a bad taste. "The humans of Burbon now think they can get away with this injustice. They may even now be laughing at us. That I can not have. You speak of the algors and the threat they represent. What of the threat of the humans? They are now filled with confidence. They believe they can beat us. If you send your army to attack the algors, our flanks will truly be exposed. Not to the demoralized algors, but to the cocky humans. That is the true danger. It is my command we address this threat first."

Strog made one last attempt to sway the queen of this folly. "I am not ready for this. To attack Burbon I will need time to develop a full battle strategy. Their captain is no fool. He may be calling for reinforcements right now. He may find none in Connel, but there are hundreds of human villages. I will have to assume this is so and I will have to use the bulk of my forces. It will take time to organize them."

Yave was not the least fazed. "Take all the time you need."

"That is not what I mean. My forces are prepared to attack the algors."

"I want that to wait."

"That is not wise. To attack Burbon I will need several days."

"Then begin your preparations as soon as possible."

Strog could say nothing more. He grumbled under his breath, considered ignoring her orders, but even if Yave wouldn't acknowledge their mutual dependence, he did. He left her without further argument. His war boots thumped along the palace corridors as he uneasily considered the best strategy for redeploying his troops against Burbon.

Chapter 10

Back in the trees, back near the heart of Dark Spruce, Lief and Holli climbed, leapt, and moved like squirrels. No longer were they slowed by the hard rock or barren landscape of the desert, no longer were they assaulted by the oppressive daytime heat of the Lacobian. Upon these branches, they moved with swift agility. Again, they were one with the land; again they were at home in their surroundings. On the forest floor, Ryson matched and surpassed their speed. He remained at ground level, but he was equally pleased to be free from the dangers of the desert wasteland. He glided over fallen trunks and jutting roots as he circled below the limbs and branches. He searched diligently for goblins and river rogues, but he found only the pleasing sight of colorful autumn leaves during the peak of the season.

Unfortunately, no blessing of the trees could remove their true troubles. Despite the welcome sight of the surrounding forest, the thought of the algor crisis remained paramount. Their grim expressions hid their joy, and the cool shade of this autumn day could not erase the image of what was to come. The war was escalating to a point far beyond their expectations. Even at this very moment, the algors were carving a massive army of sand giants and preparing to animate the legion with magic. There was little the three could do now; nothing else but return to the elf camp and warn others of this growing insanity.

Once in the trees, Holli had relaxed her guard, equally joyous to be far from the threats of novice wizards and sorcerers. Within the forest, she relied more upon her new found magical perceptions, and she remained untroubled for most of the return journey. Her ease, however, dissipated upon their first pass of an elf guard perimeter.

Her fellow guards reported the area safe for travel, but an angry, nervous edge painted their words. They said little, simply reported on the current conditions. There were no signs of any true danger, only small scavenging groups of goblins. To Holli, the perimeter guards appeared excitable beyond the point of such inconsequential circumstances. She sensed their unease and pressed for greater detail.

The guards hesitated at first. It was not their place to reveal critical events, even to members of their camp. They were guards not elders. Such information should be passed on by the camp leader or his council. It was up to the elder to interpret and to explain, but this thought did little to strengthen their own security. That, and the fact that Holli was a well respected member of their own elite, forced their tongues. They spoke hurriedly of an attack by the dwarves, elf casualties, and a loss of food.

Lief cursed.

Holli went rigid. She immediately returned to a state of alert which matched her caution when they traveled through the desert. Her eyes swept across the forest, her attention directed at ground level.

Ryson stayed upon the forest floor, constantly circling the elves from underneath. He heard the reports from the elves as they spoke. He turned vigilant for shifting soil or deep vibrations from below which might reveal dwarf tunneling.

Lief asked as to the elf response to the attack. He was not surprised at the answer. Nothing. Apparently, the camp elder was attempting to uncover the reasons behind the attack.

Lief cursed again.

Pressed by the unsettling news, the three quickly moved on. As they entered the elf camp, a hodgepodge of small fires and food stores, Holli and Lief dropped from the trees to join the delver on the ground. Ryson followed the two elves to the opposite edge of the camp. Several others were caught up in a lively debate. They stood about one male elf, whose eyes shifted from one elf to another. It appeared as if this central figure was trying to listen to each muddled opinion, but was failing miserably. His expression revealed pained confusion.

"As expected," Lief grumbled. He stepped up to the assemblage of elves.

Holli held back at the edge of the group, but motioned for Ryson to move up. She remained outside the crowd. Her eyes swept across the tree-lined ground, but she kept an awareness of the conversation.

Ryson stepped up to Lief's side. His attention centered upon the elf in the middle. He wondered why this individual was the center of attention. He looked lost.

The other elves came to a curious quiet. They waited impatiently for someone to take the lead. There were a few uncomfortable coughs.

Lief spoke first. He nodded to Ryson. "This is the delver Ryson Acumen. I am sure most of you remember him."

Most nodded with respect and acknowledgment.

Lief continued. He presented the confused elf to the delver. "Ryson, this is Petiole. He is the new camp elder."

Ryson hid his surprise. He remembered when he first met the previous camp elder, Mappel. Mappel commanded respect with his very presence. He demanded order, and other elves waited for his opinion. Ryson doubted that Mappel would have ever let such a disorderly assemblage occur among his people, but the delver buried any comment. He would not allow his surprise to become evident. He bowed slightly, but respectfully to Petiole.

In that moment of silence, the delver drank in a wealth of information. There was a marked sign of age on this elf, with more hints of worry than wisdom. The elf stood with uncertainty, fumbled both with his hands and his feet. His eyes darted about like a nervous thief. He constantly shifted his weight as if he wished to be somewhere else. Most of all, he did not know what to say to the delver. He stood nearly tongue-tied as he mouthed a simple greeting.

"Welcome delver."

The uncertainty was even more evident in his voice.

Lief, with a shrug of impatience, immediately took the reins of the discussion. He was not an elder, but his participation in the battle at Sanctum Mountain brought him far more respect. He was as much a part of elflore as any of the legends. Though he did not have the true authority to rule, he spoke with the tone of command. His eyes narrowed upon Petiole.

"What has happened here? We have heard of a dwarf attack."

"Yes." Petiole battled to sound as forceful as Lief. He failed. Confusion and uncertainty coursed through his words. "Two nights ago, a party of twenty dwarves broke through the ground behind our perimeter of guards. To their credit, our guards spotted them instantly, but they were too far away to immediately stop the assault. The dwarves attacked those upon the ground. They stole food and wood and disappeared back into their tunnel."

"How many elves were hurt?" Lief asked angrily.

"About two dozen."

"How many dead?"

"Four," Petiole admitted reluctantly.

Grief driven fury swept across Lief's face. He dropped his head to gather himself.

Petiole simply waited.

It seemed strange to Ryson, Petiole answering questions like a subordinate. It continued.

Lief pressed through his grief. He inhaled deeply before questioning Petiole further. "How much food and wood did they take? Will we face shortages?"

"I'm not sure."

Lief showed his impatience. "Well, what did they take?"

Petiole shrugged.

Tuber Berisom, the elf in charge of storing the harvested food, spoke up to answer. "They took little that was of any real long term value to us. They took mostly fruits. Berries, crab apples, pears. Not much more. Most of that would have spoiled anyway. They did not find our supplies of nuts, salts, and dried crops. We can increase our fruit picking to the east to make up for what was lost."

For the first time, Petiole spoke without reservation or hesitation. He stared angrily at Tuber. He spoke not with the diplomacy of a leader, but with the hostility of an insulted adolescent. "I have not made that decision yet."

Instantaneously, the order of the meeting fell apart. Petiole began to scold many of the elves as they voiced their displeasure with him.

"What else can we do?" Tuber asked with a temper. "We've lost food. We have to make up for it."

"We won't starve if we don't," Petiole responded angrily. "You yourself said so. You said we have plenty of food. Do you now change your opinion?"

"We have enough food to get us through the dormant season. That is what I said. I did not infer that we should not make up for what we have lost."

Other elves began to bicker about the amount of available food. Ryson was near shock. If this was the council of elders, they were acting like children. They insulted each other with disrespect. They were obviously incensed at the dwarf attack, and they were taking it out against each other. It was embarrassing for leaders to act in such a fashion, and Petiole raged with the best of them.

"What if the dwarves come back?" The lead elf challenged.

"What if they do?" Tuber countered with no greater dignity.

"They'll just take it again," Petiole answered, stubbornly holding his ground. "I will not allow the work of this camp to go to waste. I must direct the activities of this camp with regard to the consequences. If we are to restock our food supplies, we must first come up with a way to protect them."

A decorated guard commander immediately jumped into the fray. "That is what I have said, and you haven't yet given me a decision on my plans. We can't just let the dwarves step all over us. We have buried our own dead because of their unwarranted attack. We can not just stand here and wait for another. If you allow me to teach those dwarves of Dunop a lesson, we will not have to worry about them coming back to steal our food."

"We have no way of knowing who it was that attacked us," Petiole remarked as if insulted.

"Of course we do."

"No we don't. They could have just been renegades."

Holli spoke from the rear. She did not step up to the others. She simply let her voice carry over theirs.

"There can be little doubt as to who attacked us. Yave sent her warriors from Dunop and I believe I know why. The delver, Lief and I were set upon in the desert by a dwarf war party. They wore the markings of Dunop soldiers. They believed us to be spies out to assist the algors. They attacked us, but the delver proved too agile for them. Obviously, the party returned to Dunop and informed the queen of what happened. Based on what we already know of her, it is not unreasonable to believe she ordered an attack in response to that skirmish. It all fits together, especially now if she believes we have allied ourselves with the algors."

"I did not know of the skirmish," the elf commander replied quickly before anyone else could speak, "but I already stated that Yave was the only dwarf that would order such an attack."

"But these renegades did not wear the markings of Dunop," Petiole insisted. "We can not be sure of this."

"I think we can," Holli replied with as much respect as she could muster. "If the dwarves had sent a full-fledged army, they would have displayed their Dunop arms with egotistical pride. From what you have already said, however, they only sent twenty. They would probably want us to believe it was simply a raiding party of renegades, to create the confusion we have now. It fits together."

"Why would they do such a thing?"

Holli offered a possible theory. "The full complement of their forces may be elsewhere. They may be focused upon the algors, or they may have another target."

The words struck the delver like a hammer. He gasped with dread and uncertainty. "Burbon!"

Holli did not wish to exaggerate the delver's fears, but she could not disagree with the possibility. She simply nodded.

Ryson stared at the elf guard. He did not wish to accept his own thoughts, but they crashed upon him with grave savagery. "If Yave decided to attack here to get even with you, she would have been just as upset with me. She would have..."

He did not wait to finish his sentence. He flew from the elf camp, ignoring the calls of Lief and Holli.

Ryson reached the walls of Burbon to find it safe in Sy's hands. The guard at the gate informed the delver of the dwarf attack. There were casualties among the soldiers, but no civilians were hurt.

Torn between relief and dread, Ryson first went to the Borderline Inn. His fears would not be completely quelled until he saw Linda safe and well.

The inn was empty, not a single patron. As he shut the door behind him, the click of the latch snapped the silence like the crack of a whip, but only for a heartbeat. The quiet rushed back upon him. The tavern area, which was normally full of life, welcomed him with only ghosts of memories. The floor boards creaked ever so slightly under his feet. Normally, such a sound would easily have been drowned out by conversation, music, even laughter. Not today. The creak of the wood played like a symphony. Ryson looked to the bar, now just a silent and lonely block of intricately designed architecture. The stools waited like sleeping sentinels or dead soldiers. A grave yard.

Ryson's heart raced. No civilians had been hurt, but where was Linda? "Hello? Linda?"

He heard her call from the back, from the kitchen.

"Ryson?"

The door to the back swung open with the force of a hurricane. Her eyes fell upon him, swelling instantly with tears of relief. She ran to him. She threw her arms around him, held him with every force of her being.

"Oh Ryson! I was so scared. I didn't know ..." the rest of her words were muffled, her face pressed in his chest.

Ryson returned her hold. He stroked her hair. He wanted to comfort her, but he was overcome with the same sense of relief. He did not know what he would have done if she was not there to greet him. He breathed heavily, freeing the tightness in his body.

"It's alright. Everything's alright."

They stayed together for long moments. Neither of them spoke. Finally, Linda released her iron strong hold. She stepped back and she wiped the tears from her eyes. She quickly moved around the bar and got a towel to wipe her face. She laughed a little, embarrassed by her own emotional outburst. The relief of seeing Ryson fueled her joy, and she laughed a little harder.

Ryson smiled. "I guess we both have stories to tell, huh?"

"Are you hungry?" she was finally able to get out.

"No, I'm alright. Maybe just some water."

Linda got two cups. They both took long gulps, trying to swallow the remnants of their emotions.

Ryson took another look around the inn. His delver curiosity began to chew at him. "What happened here? Why is this place so empty?"

Linda appeared to shiver. "We were attacked again, but not by goblins."

Ryson helped her out. "I know. It was dwarves. I was afraid of that. What have you heard?"

"They dug tunnels under us. They attacked the command post. They killed a lot of men." Linda shuddered. She had to stop, take another drink.

"That's alright. Don't go into that. I'll get that from Sy. What's happening now? Why's the place so empty?"

"They're training," Linda forced out.

"Who's training?"

"Most everyone. Sy put out a request. He said he needed volunteers to help fight. It was either that or leave for the protection of Connel. No one wants to leave their homes. Everyone agrees we have to stay and fight. Even I wanted to join. Sy wouldn't let me. He said it would interfere with your thinking. He couldn't have that. He said the people of this town would need you thinking straight more than they would need me."

Ryson did not know how to respond. He was thankful for what Sy had done. He did not want to worry about Linda. He spoke his thoughts openly. "I'd rather you didn't put yourself at risk. In all honesty, I don't know what's going to happen next."

"That's what scares all of us," Linda admitted.

"Can you leave," Ryson pressed, "can you lock this place up for a while? I want you to come with me. I'm going to see Sy. I want you to hear what's going on."

Linda waved to the empty room. "I don't think that's a problem."

Linda and Ryson moved quickly to the command post, past hundreds of civilians training in the streets. Sergeants of the guard spoke respectfully but forcefully to them all, whether they were merchant or mid-wife. This was no game. Their lives were at stake and each face showed it. Grim and determined, fearful but angry; the townspeople followed the training without objection.

The scene was powerful. Men and women of all ages, learning to use weapons of death and destruction, willing to cast aside their normal lives to protect their homes. They disregarded their status as civilians, there were no more civilians. They were all soldiers, soldiers that had to learn quickly. They made mistakes, and when they did they cursed. There was no joking, no playful laughter. This was life, and death. They came together under the watchful eyes of the sergeants; they put aside any past differences. For this moment, there was unity in purpose and in spirit.

Ryson guided Linda into the guard headquarters, into Sy's office. He offered greeting to Sy and Enin.

Sy could not have been happier, and he made no attempt to hide it. "Thank Godson."

"Godson?" Ryson quickly responded with a smile. "I didn't know you followed that faith."

Sy smiled broadly. "I'll believe anything that brings you back to us. Do you know what's going on here?"

Ryson's own smile evaporated. "Most of it. I know the dwarves attacked. Tell me about the particulars."

Sy revealed each detail, hoping the delver might find some understanding in this madness. Upon finishing his description, he asked for enlightenment. "Do you know what's going on here?"

Ryson gritted his teeth. "I'm afraid I do. It seems you were right. You yourself said that wars often spread. I guess you can say that most of this is my fault. The elves and I stumbled across a dwarf war party in the desert. They called us spies and attacked us. We beat them off but they must think we have allied with the algors. They also attacked the elf camp in Dark Spruce."

Sy did not want Ryson to assume any fault in this matter. He wanted the delver's head clear. "You can't blame yourself. You said you had a responsibility to warn the algors. No man can be faulted for living up to his responsibilities and nothing can justify the attack on my men."

Ryson revealed the full merit of his own disappointment. "I'm afraid I failed with the algors as well. I was too late in getting there. The dwarves had already attacked. The algors suffered heavy losses."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sy offered.

Ryson did not know what else to say.

Sy turned to his obligation of protecting the people. He focused on obtaining more information. "I need your help. I need to know what you think is going to happen next. In all honesty, I have no idea what to do. The way these dwarves can tunnel leaves us with hundreds, maybe even thousands, of blind spots. The wall is useless. They can attack any part of the city at any moment. I have my soldiers spread so thin I had to ask for volunteers."

"I saw. Quite impressive."

Sy nodded with respect for the people it was his duty to protect. "Not surprising. These people really have no other place to go. None of us do. It helps, but only to a degree. I can't say what they'll do if they face a real battle. I need more experienced soldiers. I sent a messenger to Connel. She hasn't returned yet. I can't count on it until I know for sure. For now, I have to rely on what I've got. Anyway, you've told me why they've attacked, I need to know if they'll attack again."

Ryson considered the point. The thought was not pleasant. "I don't know. If I had to guess, I would probably say yes. You defeated them. I doubt that is sitting well with them. They seem to be such a proud race. Any loss is just going to make them angry. I would think they would try again."

Sy frowned, but revealed his agreement. "That's my thought, but there is still so much I don't know. How large of a force will they send against us? What kind of weapons will they use? Will they tunnel again? And most importantly, when will they attack?"

"I can't answer any of those questions. The only thing I can say is that I don't think dwarves are very patient. If Yave is attacking us out of anger, she'll probably waste little time, but I can't guarantee that she won't wait."

"Damn," Sy grumbled. He looked at Ryson with fading hope. "There are other problems as well. Enin here can't detect them. For some reason, they can get close and if he closed his eyes he wouldn't be able to tell them apart from our regular citizens."

"It bothers me greatly," Enin confirmed what Sy was saying. "I have spent much of the past day trying to figure out why. Even now, I don't understand it."

"The dwarves are very resistant to the magic," Ryson explained. "Holli, the elf guard, explained that to me before. That's probably why you didn't sense them."

"Resistant?"

"They don't store it, they have a hard time using it, and apparently, spells are not very effective against them."

Enin filled with relief. "It wasn't me? There wasn't something happening to me?"

"No."

"That doesn't really help us, Enin." Sy sounded upset with the wizard's show of solace. "We still won't get any early warning on them." The captain turned back to the delver. "I've put men at posts at different intersections around the town. I'm using them as early warning. I've also had some miners dig some warning traps. They tell me if the dwarves dig underneath them, they'll collapse. I don't know how much faith to put into that, though. They seem like they would work, but these dwarves can dig like nothing else I've ever seen. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Not really? I..."

Enin did not let him finish. "Something's approaching the wall." He ran from the office, ran outside into the open air.

"Great," Sy grumbled. "What now?"

He, Ryson and Linda followed the wizard. They looked to him expectantly.

Enin faced the south gate. A smile crossed his lips. "Elves. Two of them. They are approaching the wall."

Understanding washed over the delver.

"It's probably Lief and Holli. I left them rather abruptly," Ryson admitted.

Sy turned to a soldier keeping guard at the door. "Signal the south gate. There are two, uh, individuals approaching. Let them enter and instruct them to come here."

"Should I go meet them?" Ryson questioned.

"I'd rather you didn't," Sy confessed. "I'd like to hear everything they have to say for myself. If you go off on your own, I might miss something important."

"Fair enough, but we should meet them here, outside. They probably won't like being cramped up in your office."

Sy frowned with uncertainty. He spoke to the delver almost guardedly. "Before they get here, I have some questions. You said the elves were attacked as well as us. What did they say about the attack?"

Ryson offered the little information he had overheard. "It was a small raiding force, about twenty dwarves. They had some casualties, not as bad as here, but they did take some supplies."

Sy pressed for more detail about a possible elf response. "What did they say they were going to do about it?"

"They were arguing that point when I left. I think some of them wanted to attack Dunop. It's just like you said, this war is spreading, and I don't know where it's going to end." Ryson paused to look down the main street that led to the south. His sharp eyes picked up the elves being escorted by two guards before anyone else could see them. "Here they come now."

Sy called for Ryson's undivided attention. "One more thing before they get here. I'm going to talk openly to these two. If I say anything which bothers you in any way, speak up. I have no idea of what I'm dealing with here. I'm going on instinct alone. I need any help you can give me."

"I don't know much more than you," Ryson warned.

Sy shook his head. "That's nonsense and you know it. You've dealt with elves before. You've fought alongside them. I can't say that. Don't worry about hurting my feelings and don't be damned humble. I'm nearly in the dark here."

"Alright." Ryson could not ignore his plea, and could say nothing else.

The elves approached. Holli surveyed the area, summed up each human guard that stood near. She showed no sign of agitation, only careful analysis of her surroundings.

Lief did not appear happy.

"That was not wise," the elf admonished the delver. "You ran out of our camp without a thought to the threats in the forest. You ran off before you could voice your own experiences in the desert."

Ryson spoke out defensively. "I thought Burbon might have been attacked. It was. I had to get back here as soon as possible. You would have done the same."

"Without escort? Alone? I don't think so."

"There was no time for that. I had to move fast."

"Fire upon your impatience," Lief cursed.

Holli spoke softly but firmly. "There is no cause for that, Lief. What's done is done."

Ryson thanked the elf guard and quickly introduced her to those around them.

Holli found each individual interesting in their own right. She could sense the strong magic in Enin. She recalled Lief's description of the wizard. It did not surprise her now that he cast white magic. One day he would be a powerful wizard, perhaps stronger than any other, this she could not deny. Had it not been for the aura of pureness around him, this encounter would have given her nightmares.

Linda had no magic in her, none whatsoever, and that was also fascinating. It went beyond normalcy for resistant humans, even beyond the dwarves resistance to the energy. Even most dwarves Holli met touched the magic to at least some degree, but this human woman seemed to almost repel it, to shed it from her as if it was an unwanted and weak virus.

As for Sy, he sparked the most curiosity in the elf guard. He was obviously a soldier, a leader of this human army that was even now training in the streets. She wondered about his skills, his experiences. She would have liked to speak with him alone, to learn everything he could teach her. She was not so arrogant to believe that only the elf guards knew proper battle tactics. She need only look around to see the walls and towers as well as the placement of guards to know that this man had wisdom in the ways of war and defense. She asked openly of the training exercises.

"You have many learning to fight and Ryson spoke of a dwarf raid. Have you been attacked?"

Sy spoke without hesitation. He spoke openly and with all honesty. "We were attacked by dwarves that tunneled under the wall. We weren't ready for that. We lost about thirty soldiers. Our forces were deployed for other threats. I have these people training because I don’t have enough experienced men to cover the town. The truth of the matter is I’m spread too thin, not something I would like to admit. I'm telling you this because I accept you as an ally, a friend. In all honesty, we need all the friends we can get. It's been hard enough for us to deal with the constant threat of goblin raids. I have to tell you, I'm afraid this town is under the threat of extinction. If I can't count on you to treat us as an ally, I don't think there is any hope for us."

He looked to Holli, looked to her for a soldiers promise, a word of good will that would go beyond negotiated treaties. She did not disappoint him.

"The elves do not feel threatened by the humans. We have no animosity to you or your town. We can be friends and allies, we need to be friends."

"That's good to hear, because another enemy I don't need."

Sy looked to Ryson, looked to see if he said anything he would later regret. The delver simply nodded and smiled.

Lief, however, returned his wrath to the delver. "And as friends, we should not run out on each other. Your word was needed."

"I thought I was needed here."

The response did little to alleviate the elf's anger. Ryson saw this clearly, and he attempted to assuage his friend's anger.

"Maybe I can go back," he replied somewhat apologetically.

"It is too late for that. Holli and I recounted our experiences. Still, your words might have swayed Petiole. Whether you like to accept it or not, you are a part of elflore now. Your opinion would have been highly regarded."

Sy forced the conversation back to his own needs. "I'm not sure what's going on with your camp, but I can tell you that I need the delver here. Of that I'm sure. That may be the only thing that I'm really sure of. I'm worried the dwarves may come back at any moment. For the most part, we were lucky."

"What do you mean you were lucky?" Holli asked with interest.

Sy detailed the battle and the retreat of the dwarves. "We were lucky Enin was here. I don't now how many of my soldiers would have died if we had to battle them without him." Sy could not help but notice the expression on Holli's face. It exposed her reservations with the victory. Sy narrowed on this, demanded an explanation. "That's not the expression of someone that's just heard good news. Something about what I said is bothering you. What is it?"

"Your victory in that battle may cost you much in the future," Holli responded like one steel nerved officer speaking to another. "If our suspicions our correct, the dwarf war party was sent here to punish you. You did not let them succeed."

"Was I supposed to?"

"No. You were put in a no-win scenario. No soldier would allow an invader to attack without attempting to defend. You acted as any true leader would. But that won't change what will probably happen next. Not only were you not punished, you forced a retreat and inflicted casualties. The dwarves will find this an embarrassment. They will most likely attack again, but next time they will come in greater numbers and they will spread themselves in formations which will keep your wizard from trapping them again."

"Damn!" Sy quickly looked out across the streets, looked to the civilians now training to be soldiers. "They won't be enough, will they?"

"I don't think so," Holli responded with honesty that would befit an ally. "But do not yet lose your faith. There are other aspects of this war to consider. The dwarf army may never reach you."

Both Ryson and Sy spoke at the same time. "Why not?"

Holli hesitated at first. There was something immediately upon her lips, but she did not speak of it. Instead, she referred to knowledge that was already Ryson's. "Ryson knows of the sand giants. The algors intend to send them upon the dwarves. Such an event may forestall any attack upon you."

"Wait a minute," Ryson interrupted. "I thought it would take time for the algors to prepare the stone and to capture the magical energy needed to cast the spells. I didn't think the sand giants would be ready for another several days."

"That is probably true, "Holli admitted, "but we also don't know when the dwarves will plan a second attack against this town."

"Hold on. Hold on," Sy demanded. "You're going way beyond my comprehension here."

Ryson explained as quickly as possible.

Sy knew not to doubt, even if the thought of giants carved from sandstone and animated by magic seemed beyond sane thinking. He simply accepted the facts as revealed by the delver. The algors intended to send an army of sand giants against Dunop. If so, that would certainly occupy the dwarves if not destroy them completely. Still, Sy had to speak of his own interpretations. "If I understand what you're saying, it's possible that these sand giants may take care of the dwarves for us. If that's the case, our town may yet be safe. But I have to offer you two possibilities. What if the dwarves return to the desert and defeat the algors before these sand giants are created?"

"That is certainly a consideration," Holli conceded.

Sy continued. "That means the dwarves may still show up here. It'll just take them longer to regroup their army. The other possibility is that the sand giants don't reach Dunop until after the dwarf army attacks us. You said the sand giants will use the tunnels constructed by the dwarves as the means for them to reach Dunop. If the dwarves did a good job destroying those tunnels, it may take the sand giants days even weeks before they reach their target, plenty of time for them to deal with us."

"That is also possible."

Sy pointed out the obvious. "Then, in all honesty, the odds remain high that the dwarves will still attack here, and I don't know if I can stop them."

"There is one other factor you are overlooking," Lief said abruptly. He paused for a moment as everyone turned to look at him. Holi grimaced briefly but then nodded her head. Lief would have made the announcement with or without her approval, but he was glad to have it. "You are unaware of what Petiole, the leader of my camp, has decided. This decision makes an attack against your town very unlikely.” He exhaled deeply as if the next words were not welcome to his lips. “He plans to unleash shadow trees upon Dunop."

The mere mention of shadow trees caused Ryson to shiver. He recalled the power of these mutated creations, how they thrived in darkness and consumed all living things. He had dealt with them in Sanctum and he still recalled their nightmare. Shadow trees were beyond horror, they were living darkness and the thought of their existence in Dunop was stifling. He thought of the lifeless evils growing in the dark caverns of the dwarf city. The hideous creations would overwhelm the city, consume every inhabitant. Dunop would be destroyed, of that there was no question. He then considered the sand giants. They would clear tunnels as they sought the dwarves, make paths for the shadow trees to grow and reproduce. They would thrive in the darkness and they would spread, perhaps through every underground city in the land. Maybe it was not Burbon that faced extinction, but the dwarves.

Chapter 11

Sazar strolled the hilltops. His goblin minions had informed him of the return of the delver, as well as the arrival of the two elves shortly thereafter. He looked to the sun, estimated the time to its departure from the sky. He watched the passing of only a few clouds. A dry wind blew from the west. This would be a good night to attack.

He considered his advantages. The humans had indeed relaxed their watch upon the clearing. In fact, it appeared as if they now all but ignored the threat of a goblin raid. The scouts by guards on horseback through the tall grass had ceased. The number of armed humans at the gates dwindled. The town as a whole appeared more concerned with a greater problem. They might be more anxious over another dwarf attack, but it was not a wise idea for them to turn their backs on him.

There was also the consideration of diversion. The delver had returned, along with the elves. What news did they bring with them? Something important enough to cause great commotion? Probably. The humans would be even more absorbed in other matters. Their attention was divided.

The shag had been successful in saving the tunnel for him. A goblin raiding party would not even have to pass the clearing. They could get behind the wall with ease, maybe even reach the stores of weapons and food without being spotted. Supplies could be transferred through the tunnel. Even the danger of a costly retreat vanished.

If ever there was a time for a successful goblin raid, this was the night. Sazar had the means and the opportunity. It was almost as if Burbon was welcoming him. This was no trap, no false illusion. Food and supplies waited for his taking. With a little luck, he and his goblins would be set for the entire dormant season.

Now is the time, now we should raid.

The order was on his lips. All logic pointed to this one course of action. All that was necessary was for him to speak the command, but Sazar remained silent.

He paced the hilltop, always looking to the shadow of Burbon in the distance. Just as his snake-like tail slithered through the grass behind him, images of greater glory wavered through his thoughts. A more enticing opportunity was at hand, he could taste it. A war. There was nothing firm, no strong evidence, but he could not shake the belief that it was imminent.

The participants were certainly in place. The elves, the dwarves, the algors; all signs pointed to escalating tensions. The invasion by the dwarves on Burbon certainly indicated hostility, but Sazar was quick to remind himself that small skirmishes did not always lead to all out war. Nothing fit perfectly, but nothing contradicted his theory, either. Coincidence would only go so far to explain what he already knew. Then, there were the rumors. They were strong, too strong to ignore. Rebellion in Dunop and strained relations between elves and dwarves.

The rumors were supported by fact. The dwarves had attacked the humans. This was not a sign of healthy relations. Elves from Dark Spruce were now speaking with the humans, not something they did in the past. Yes, there was tension.

A few questions bothered him. Where did the algors fit in all of this? Why did the delver and the elves head off into the Lacobian desert in the first place? And why did no algors come back? How far would the hostilities go? Which races would be allies, which would be enemies, and which would try to remain neutral?

The serp stalked the tall grass as if he was hunting rodents. His mind, however, was firmly set upon the puzzle. He wanted a war, but should he count on it? He had before him a known opportunity, a chance to obtain much needed supplies. He did not wish to let the chance of a successful raid slip through his reptilian fingers, but how much greater were the rewards in the event of a larger conflict?

He considered his quandary. Perhaps, he should call for the raid anyway. He was not really worried about any goblin casualties. He could always find replacements. Goblins were as plentiful as weeds. He might be able to raid Burbon and still enjoy the later opportunities of war.

Still, he did not want to be a factor in the culmination of the coming conflict. He did not want his decisions to change the course of events. In all honesty, he wanted the war more than he wanted this single raid. He would have both if he could, but he would not risk the one for the other. That is where he needed to remain careful.

If only he knew for sure, if only he had more information. He would bless the goblin that could bring him such intelligence.

As if in answer to his own twisted prayers, the goblin he promoted and sent to Dark Spruce came into his view. The goblin labored through the tall grass and up the hill. It was out of breath, but eager to speak.

"Sazar, sir. My party has returned. We have found what you wished to know. The elves were indeed attacked by the dwarves."

The serp's eyes gleamed. He appeared like a cobra ready to strike. "You are sure?"

"We are sure," the goblin exhaled heavily, still trying to catch its breath. "We did not see the battle, but we overheard elf guards. There was an attack, but they do not know where the dwarves came from. A few argued that they had to come from Dunop."

"Of course they came from Dunop," Sazar said with near glee. "They attacked the humans, and now, also the elves. This is too good to be true. Do you understand what this means? Don't answer. Of course you don't. Fortunately for you, I do. A skirmish between the humans and the dwarves may not lead to anything more than confusion. The humans would not know how to respond. They worry more about protecting their town. They would not seek a counter offensive. But the elves, they are a different story. They will not simply forget this. They will want to respond. There has always been tension between the elves and the dwarves. This will be the spark to a greater fire. There will be more attacks, greater tension, escalating hostilities."

Sazar began to pace the hilltop again. This time, however, he appeared like a child at a birthday party; excited, gleeful, impatient, wondering what present to open first.

"The two elves came back with the humans. That means that all three races will be involved. The algors did not show. That may mean they wish to remain neutral. Still, conflict between the others affords us so many opportunities." He turned back to the goblin. "Truly, this is a time for us all to rejoice. We have just what we want. War."

A full-fledged war. Music to his ears. The potentials of such a proposition opened before him. His goblins would be like vultures waiting near the edges of every battle, ready to steal weapons from the dead and defeated, ready to hunt the wounded for food and gems or gold. There would be a need for spies. The humans would pay for information. There would be a need for assassins. How much would the dwarves pay for the services of his shag?

This news also brought an end to his languishing over the raid. His decision was made. There really was no choice. If war was possible, he should hold off his goblins.

War was a tricky thing. It started and stopped over the smallest incidents. There would also be another time, another night for a raid. Perhaps not as perfect as this one, but he would find another moment. After all, the tunnel would still be there and Burbon wasn't going anywhere. The raid simply had to wait for another time. Too bad.

"I can't allow this. This has to be stopped." Ryson was more than adamant, he was blazing with dissent. The memory of the shadow trees invoked his passions. He narrowed his focus directly upon Lief. "You were with me, down at the bottom of Sanctum. You saw those things. You can't let this happen again. They're a nightmare."

Ryson's voice trembled. To him, it was more than a bad dream. The shadow trees were real, and they waited in the darkness of his memories. His recollection of this horror was as crisp as a dried leaf. It would never leave him. The delver spent many a sleepless night fighting off the memory of the terror in the dark.

"I don't care what the dwarves did. Nothing would justify this. If the seeds are dropped on Dunop, the trees will kill all the dwarves. The young, the old. The innocent! Everyone down there."

"It was not my decision," Lief replied. His expression was colored with the gloom of his own memories of the monstrosities.

"Godson! It's everybody's decision. Yours, mine, everyone's. We either allow it, or we don't"

Linda was shocked by his outburst. "Ryson. Try to clam down. I don't think he wants this to happen any more than you do."

Ryson could not, would not, calm his emotions. "It's his camp. He can stop it. He's respected there."

Holli spoke somberly. "He tried. He could not sway the opinion of the camp leaders. They see Yave as a threat to our existence."

"But you're not just putting an end to Yave, you're putting and end to Dunop. Godson, maybe even worse. Don't forget the algors and what they're planning. What do you think is going to happen when the sand giants start breaking through the tunnels? They're going to open more paths underground to get to the dwarves. The shadow trees will spread, they’ll spread into the desert and right under the algors. How many will die? This is beyond not being right, this is criminal."

Holli reminded him of who he was shouting at. "Be that as it may, Petiole would not listen to Lief, and right now you are blaming him."

Ryson would not concede the point. He remained livid. "I'm blaming everyone. Myself included. I have to do everything I can to stop them as well."

"What would you do?" Holli questioned sharply.

"Let me talk to Petiole. I'll stop him."

"He would not listen to you. He did not listen to Lief. You do not fully understand what is happening in our camp." Holli did not pause, did not for a moment contemplate whether or not to speak the true reasons for this calamity. Without hesitation and with the clarity of a mission briefing, she pinpointed the crux of the dilemma. "Petiole is the eldest elf, but he is a weak leader. He worries more about how the elves view him. He believes the dwarf raid was a direct attack against his leadership. He is angry and offended. He believes he has to act to bring back the respect of the camp."

Ryson was aghast. The idea of using the shadow trees to defend one's reputation was beyond depravity. "Good Godson, you can't be serious? Is he mad?"

"It is not my place to say. "Holli replied evenly. "It is simply what he wishes. And Petiole will see any attempt to stop his plans as an affront to his authority, a challenge. He will not listen to you anymore than he would listen to the youngest elf of our camp."

"Then you need a new leader!" Ryson demanded.

Holli did not answer. No matter how much she agreed with this, as an elf guard, she was sworn to protect the camp elder's authority.

Ryson noted her reluctance. His eyes narrowed upon the elf guard. "You can't tell me you support this? You have to agree this has to be stopped? Don't you?"

The elf guard fell silent. Worse for Ryson, she became stone-faced, rigid to anything he might say.

The delver's disbelief over the situation doubled. "I don't care who the leader is, you can't let this happen. If you do, you're saying you think every dwarf in Dunop is responsible for what's happening here. Worse, you're saying everyone has to be punished. Not only punished, but tortured. I saw those shadow trees. I know what they're like. If you don't do something to stop this, you're sentencing all of Dunop to an end so painful it's probably beyond your comprehension." He waited impatiently for some kind of response from the elf.

Holli still would not answer. She did not return his blazing glare. Instead, she looked over his shoulder, beyond him as if he was not there.

The silence brought discomfort.

Lief attempted to break it. He did his best to speak for her. "Easy to say, not easy to do. Elf leadership is probably older than any form of human government. It is as old as the ancients, it comes from elflore."

Ryson was not even slightly swayed. His emotions continued to bubble over like a burning stew. "So what are you saying? Because of your traditions you're going to allow what you call a weak leader to kill thousands beyond thousands with this horror that should never have even been created? Isn't that what you said about the shadow trees when you first told me about them? You were embarrassed that the elves could even conceive of such a terror. I remember how you looked when you described how they were first used. It was another dwarf-elf war. The fact that the elves used such a weapon pained you. Now, you're going to allow it to happen again?"

Lief erupted. "What can I do?!

Ryson did not pause in his response. "Whatever it takes!"

Lief began to show anger himself. "And do you know what that might be?! Our leader is now determined to strike back. He will not be swayed. He has the authority and the right to make such a decision. Despite what you think, I have no right to question him."

"No right?" Ryson's eyes shot open wide. "You have every right. And what justifies the crime he's about to commit? Just because he's the camp elder? That means nothing. No one who could even consider such an act should even be allowed to lead."

"Again, you speak with no knowledge! What do you think we can do? Just ask him to step down? Take a vote like the humans? He is the leader because he is. There is only one way to end his role, and that is with his death. Maybe you think I should just kill Petiole?!"

Ryson did not back down for an instant. He was against killing, he held life sacred, but perhaps that is what pushed him to this limit. He yelled right back. "If that's what it takes. Better for one to die, than to allow him to do this."

Lief clenched his fists. Ryson's reaction was no true surprise to him, and the solution was not something foreign to his own contemplations. Yet, as an elf, he knew more, more of what was involved, more of what was truly possible. Yes, he had considered such a thought, and he revealed as much as he spoke through a set jaw. "You think it's that easy! You don't know anything! Ask Holli if she would let me get near Petiole if she knew I was going to kill him."

Holli did not wait for the question. She answered without emotion. Her monotone voice rang hollow. "I would have to stop him, kill him if necessary."

Ryson's eyes widened. His accusing glare turned from Lief to Holli. "You would kill Lief?"

"It is my oath."

"Your oath? What in the name of Godson is wrong with you?"

"Ages of what you call tradition," Holli replied.

Ryson raged on. "That's not acceptable! What happened long ago means nothing compared to what's going to happen right now. Can you look me in the eye and say that you support even the thought of releasing the seeds on Dunop? Can you?"

"No, I can't."

"But you would protect Petiole?"

"They are not the same."

"Yes they are! Godson!" Ryson grasped for reason, searched for alternatives. "Fine. You won't let Lief stop Petiole. What about me?"

Linda could not hold her own reaction. "You? You would go out to kill this elf?"

Ryson kept his eyes on Holli, but as he spoke to Linda, he checked his rage. "If it would stop this, yes I would. You know I don't believe in killing anything, but I've seen those trees. Anyone that would even think of using them has to be stopped."

Sy entered the debate cautiously, made a point of his own, a consideration of the humans in Burbon. "I don't know much of these shadow trees, but I do know the dwarves are a threat. They attacked us. They attacked the elves. You can't fault them for wanting to defend themselves. The dwarves want to kill us, all of us."

Ryson shook his head. "Not all of them, and I can tell you about these trees. They would kill every dwarf in Dunop." He turned his attention back to Lief and Holli. "What about that? What about the dwarves that resist Yave? The ones that wanted us to warn the algors, to help them remove Yave from power and stop the separatists? Do they really want to attack us? Do they deserve a torturous death? And what about Jon? Does he deserve to die because some irresponsible elf is worried about his own stupid reputation?" His voice got rougher as he directed more and more of his reply at Holli. It was soon evident he was questioning the elf guard. "What does that make the elves? Jon stood with me, stood with us, to defeat Ingar, to save the land, including the elves that were being poisoned by the magic. Is this how we repay him? We destroy his home with the worse nightmare I've ever encountered. Is that what you're protecting?"

Holli remained steadfast in her reply. "I protect the elders of my camp as well as all elves. The eldest is the leader. It is not my position to question his decisions. If you tried to enter my camp with the intention of harming Petiole, I would do everything in my power to stop you."

Ryson's disbelief widened. "This is ridiculous."

Lief listened to the delver with commiseration. This same debate, these same questions raged in his own soul the moment Petiole announced he would use the shadow tree seeds. He began to reel in his own anger at Ryson. He knew what fed the delver's passion. In truth, it fed his own. He would rather see Petiole removed from power than face the prospect of living with the guilt of unleashing the seeds upon the dwarves. He would even accept the responsibility to kill Petiole, if that was a plausible solution. It wasn't, as he understood the elf culture. He knew what Holli went through to become an elf guard, knew what oath she swore. Ryson did not know these things.

The elf did his best to explain the facts of the situation. His voice was filled with regret as he tried to reassure the delver of what was simply not possible. "I know how you feel about the shadow trees. I feel the same way. I also agree that Petiole has no right to unleash such a weapon just to reaffirm his authority. Be that as it may, I can not blame Holli for what she has said. She is an elf guard. She takes an oath so strong it has never been broken. It is more than just a promise to the leaders or even to the camp. It is also more than just tradition."

Lief rubbed his hands together as he searched for a way to explain the unexplainable. "I believe I know you well enough to say that you would do anything to keep your own word. Holli's oath is beyond just giving her word. It might be like you making an oath tied to the blessing you have with the woman who stands beside you. If you break that promise, you irrevocably destroy that very same blessing. That is the strength in her own responsibility. She can not question it, no more than you can question the feelings you have for this woman."

At first, Ryson wished to debate the issue. No promise was worth committing this crime. No oath of service was so strong as to deny morality. What was this elf saying to him? That killing off every dwarf in Dunop, the innocent along with the guilty, that was simply acceptable because the elf guard swore to protect their own?

His mouth opened to protest just as Linda gently held him at his arm. He looked to her. He saw his own life in her eyes, his happiness, his future. He would kill to protect her.

His focus shifted to Holli. He saw pain. The elf guard held her oath as sacred as Ryson held Linda. In this moment, that same oath was forcing her to do something which was justified by no other reason. He saw the grief in her choice, the grief he would feel if he committed murder to protect his own love.

Ryson swelled with regret. His harsh words to the elf guard forced their way back into his memory like the returning tide. He immediately babbled out an apology. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't blame you. I didn't understand. I thought you were defending Petiole's decision. I think I see it's something more now. I am sorry."

Holli simply nodded. She herself had doubts. For the first time in her life she faced a choice which actually brought her close to breaking her oath. Ryson said nothing which was not true. Despite the attack of the dwarves, she could not justify the use of the shadow trees. But elves had died in the face of the attack, more would die if tensions escalated. Wouldn't the seeds save lives as well as take them? Then again, was that truly why they were being used? Petiole was doing nothing more than fighting for his own standing. He was wrong. She knew this. Yet, she must defend him, protect him. Her inner turmoil kept her silent.

Lief spoke up, placed the blame on its ultimate recipient. "What is being said here is nothing which hasn't already been considered. This debate can rage forever without a proper conclusion. And no matter what we decide, it will not change Petiole's decision. Still, he is not the true problem. Do not forget that it is Yave that is at the center of all our difficulties. Look around you. Why are these humans training? They know they will be attacked by the dwarves. Remember the algors? Who attacked them? Not Petiole. Again, it was the dwarves under Yave's leadership. And as for Petiole himself, he would not be in the position he is currently in had Yave not ordered an assault on the elves as well. I say this not to justify the use of the shadow trees. I can never condone that. Unfortunately, there are many elder elves that do. And remember the algors. Any day now they will unleash their army of sand giants. It is Yave that is causing this. It is Yave that is the problem. As much as you hate the thought, there is little we can do about this."

Ryson's jaw was tight with emotion. He could not accept everything Lief said, but the underlying truth was undeniable. Whether it be shadow trees or sand giants, both were only reactions to dwarf attacks. Yave and her followers drew first blood, and there were no signs of her stopping. The first sin was hers, but that would not forgive the future sins, including sins of abeyance. He would not be faultless if he did nothing to stop this abomination. "That may well be, but I can't just do nothing. There has to be a way to stop this."

"You would have to stop Yave," Lief replied firmly.

"Then that's what I'll have to try and do."

The shadow of doubt quickly darkened Lief's face. "And how will you accomplish this feat."

Ryson clasped his hands together. He laid out the situation in simplicity. "Yave attacked the algors because she thought they were responsible for Tun's death. I know that's not true. I'll have to convince her of that."

"If you are considering what I think, it is foolishness. Yave will not listen to you," Lief retorted. "You are a delver. Have you forgotten? She now sees you as an enemy as well. Why do you think she attacked this place?"

"I have to try."

"Try what? Suicide? You are thinking of going to her, attempting to sway her opinion. That much I can see. She'll have you killed."

The words fell like bricks upon Linda. She looked to Ryson with growing dread of his intentions. "You can't do this."

"I have to do something. I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

"You can't be irrational either," Lief admonished.

"Listen to him, Ry," Linda implored, pleading while tears filled her eyes. "What good would it do if you just get yourself killed?"

Holli found the strength to finally speak. "They are right, delver. You would accomplish nothing but your own death. You are now the enemy of the dwarves in Dunop. If you attempt to speak to the queen, she will have you killed as a spy. Do not forget who you are dealing with. Yave has imprisoned her own son. If she is capable of that, she is capable of anything. She has no reason to listen to you."

"But I was there. I can tell her." Ryson halted with this thought as another burst into his head. "Wait a minute, wait a minute! Dzeb! Dzeb was there, too. He can tell her."

Lief and Holli did not immediately reject the idea. They appeared to consider it with slight puzzlement.

Ryson continued. "You're right. Yave won't believe me, but how can she refuse a cliff behemoth. She can't. They don't lie. They dedicate their lives to the word of Godson. This can work. I can bring Dzeb into Dunop. He will speak the truth. Once she realizes Tun was killed by the sphere and not by the algors, all of this will end. Even if she doesn't accept it, the other dwarves of Dunop will. She will lose her power. They won't follow her if she openly refutes a cliff behemoth."

Lief displayed hesitation. "I don't know, let me think about this."

"What's there to think about? No one in the land, not even Yave could deny a cliff behemoth. She would have no choice. She would lose all her reasons to attack any of us."

Lief frowned. "What you say is possible, but you forget many things. You must first find Dzeb, that will take time. Of that, you have little to none. Even now, plans are being made to drop the seeds."

"You can delay them," the delver demanded. "Tell Petiole of my plan. Tell him I'm not trying to stop him. I'm trying to stop Yave. If it works, Yave will have to admit her fault. There won't be anymore challenges to his leadership, and he won't have to drop the seeds. Wouldn't that be the best solution to his problem? He has to give me a chance. All I'm asking for is a few days."

"Even if I could convince him to wait, what about the algors? They will not wait. I expect that even now they are carving the bodies of the sand giants. They will be released soon. While you go searching for Dzeb, the sand giants may destroy Dunop."

"I don't think so," Holli interrupted. "In order for the algors to send enough sand giants to destroy Dunop, it will take them at least several more days. I doubt they will send an inadequate force. They will surely want to make the first attack overwhelming. They may be able to carve that amount quickly, but they will still need time to collect the magical energy needed to animate all of them."

Enin's interest leapt to untold heights. "Truly? A spell of animation?"

Holli spoke guardedly of the use of magic. "It is a powerful spell. It brings life to rock, and as far as elflore goes, it has only been cast by the algors."

Even if it was a spell beyond the power of a human, the thought of such a conjuration enticed the wizard. "And it will take them time to collect the magic? It must use a great amount of energy."

Holli offered an explanation, but somewhat reluctantly. "Yes and no. The power is great, but not as much as you might think. As a human wizard, you store magical energy within you. The algors do not. They take the magical energy directly from the air. They can collect it, but only hold it temporarily." She spoke the rest of the explanation to Ryson. "This gives you the time you need. In order to animate an adequate number of sand giants, the algors will need more time to collect the magic. I believe your idea has merit."

Lief was not so willing. "It may give him a few days, but not unlimited time. He has to first find Dzeb. That in itself could take a season."

"I don't think so," Ryson objected. "I think I know where Dzeb is. Based on what I learned from him when he came to us, he lives in the Colad Mountains. For me, the trip to the north range is less than a half day's journey. I can be there before nightfall today."

"But then you have to escort him back," Lief reminded the delver. "He will not move as fast as you."

"Are you kidding? His legs are double the length of mine. Maybe they don't move as fast, but his stride is twice as long as any of ours. We can be back here before midday tomorrow and to the Dunop entrance before the following nightfall. That's all we need."

Lief began to succumb, but Linda voiced her own objections.

"But then what? You can't just walk into Dunop. They might kill you."

"I don't think so," Ryson reassured her. "Even if I was alone, they'd want to take me prisoner first, try to find out what I know. If I'm with Dzeb, they might not even come near me. Remember, we're talking about a cliff behemoth here. I know you've never seen one. You just have to take my word for it. Just the sight of one is awe-inspiring."

Linda wanted to protest further, wanted to keep Ryson from endangering himself. She wondered if saving the dwarves was worth the stakes he was willing to risk. He answered the question for her.

"You have to let me do this. I won't be able to forgive myself if I don't try. I don't think either one of us would want to live with that."

The image burned its imprint in her picture of the future. Ryson despondent, guilt-laden, and worse. He would blame her. He would wish to be free of her. He would seek the escape of exploring as only a delver would. His excursions would become longer and farther from home. It would be hard enough to keep him anchored as it was. This would destroy them. She gave him the only answer she could.

"Do what you have to."

Lief would still not let this be the final word. "There is yet one more consideration. If I can prevail upon Petiole to delay the use of the shadow trees, there will be nothing to slow the dwarf army. Most of us agree that Burbon is now Yave's most likely target. Your plan puts this town and all its inhabitants in great danger. Are you willing to accept this risk as well?"

This was not something Ryson expected. He did have a responsibility to the safety of the people around him. He viewed his plan to stop the use of the shadow trees as his moral obligation. Did he accept the price? Was it even his choice to make? The seeds were a horror, but using them or not using them might decide whether the people of Burbon would live or die. He dropped his forehead to his hands, crushed by the weight of the decision.

"I don't know," he mumbled.

Sy did not let him face the decision alone. He spoke with the authority that was his as the leader of Burbon. "That decision is not simply his own to make. If you're talking about the safety of this town, you speak to me. Now we all seem to believe the dwarves will attack Burbon next, but we don't know when. You say these shadow trees will stop this attack, but so might Ryson's plan. If he stops their leader before she orders the next attack, we will be as safe as if these trees you're talking about destroyed their entire city. From what Ryson tells me, these trees will kill everyone, innocent civilians as well as the dwarf army. I know I don't want that on my conscience. Maybe the best thing to do is change our tactics. Maybe we can't defeat the dwarf army, but I can consider different strategies to hold them at bay if they do attack. After all, what we're fighting for now is time. I would even consider temporarily evacuating the town, anything that would buy Ryson the time he needed."

Holli's respect for Sy elevated to that of an equal elf guard. She heard sincerity in his words and iron in his will. He was willing to consider all options to make Ryson's plan work. He did so not simply to protect his own people, the humans, but to save the lives of dwarves, a race he had only encountered in battle. Her tone carried that respect as she offered him the only true alternative.

"I do not think evacuation will help you. If the dwarves do attack before Ryson brings Dzeb to Dunop, they will catch you in the process of leaving the city. You will not be able to defend yourself, especially if you are walking on open roads. I do, however, see another option you may consider. Will you hear it?"

"Of course."

"I can order a contingent of elf guards to help defend your town. I can tell you how to fight to avoid great casualties. You will not be able to defeat the dwarves completely, but you will have a chance to hold them off and protect most of your town for at least a day or two. The dwarves will not expect the defenses you will throw at them. It should frustrate them. I can not guarantee anything but a greater chance at survival."

Lief spoke out once more, one last decree at the choice involved. "Let none of us make a mistake about this. That is what we all face. Survival. Though none of us may wish to consider it, the shadow trees would stop the dwarves and enhance all of our chances to live. But we all also seem to be against such a thing. Still, I want it to be clear. While we wish to save Dunop, we risk our own lives, some of us to the hands of the very same dwarves that have brought this conflict upon us. Is this what we all say? If so, I shall do my part, I will convince Petiole to hold off on using the seeds. He can refuse my ideas, but he can't refuse listening to them. As Ryson has said, I have gained enough status within my camp to force a meeting of all the elders. I will talk for two days if that is what is necessary. That will give him the time to bring Dzeb to my camp. Once that is accomplished, Petiole will have no choice but to let Ryson carry out the remainder of his mission. If, however, Ryson can not find Dzeb as easily as he believes, this may all be for naught. I can not stall the elders indefinitely. Petiole will give his order and the seeds will be dropped. We will have taken a great risk for nothing. I say this not because I doubt Ryson, I only wish to make our situation clear."

Lief paused, took a deep breath, before finishing with conviction. "I say we take the risk and give the delver his chance, but my risk is not as great as the others. What about the rest of you? Are we all in agreement?"

They were.

Chapter 12

Holli's attention was divided. She stood on the platform of Burbon's western tower just as Lief advanced upon the Fuge River and Ryson sped off to the northern mountains. Enin and Sy waited at her side, but they said nothing to distract her. Instead, she watched her previous companions, her friends, begin their individual quests in grim silence. Her eyes followed their trails, but she also took several sweeping glances at the town behind her. Ryson and Lief's safety were of paramount importance, but this human town was now charged to her care. Three points of focus. She fought to keep her attention upon them all.

At this particular moment, though, Lief's progress called to her with the greatest sense of urgency. If Lief faced danger in his trip back to their camp, it was at this moment. She knew he could not sense river rogues. Once he reached the trees of Dark Spruce, he would be safe, b