Delver Magic I: Sanctum's Breach - Jeff Inlo (the best motivational books .txt) 📗

Lief’s side. He whispered his report hoping to gain comprehension from the elf’s viewpoint.

“Goblins!” the elf whispered with a heavy sign. “As if I needed another sign to accept the dark truth of what we now face.”

“Goblins?” Ryson exclaimed in a weary voice, yet another surprise, another unexpected twist to this mind-boggling experience.

“Yes, goblins. It’s further proof that the sphere is free from imprisonment. Goblins can not survive without magic, not in this plane of existence. They are creatures of the dark. Some say they come up from the underground with the help of magic, but the dwarves never agreed with that theory. They contend they fall from trees, like overripe fruit. I don’t know where they come from, but I know the last was seen long ago. They did not last long after the war over the sphere. I have never seen one. My father fought one of the last groups in a suicide battle, but that was long, long ago. Apparently, they are back.”

“So what do we do?”

The elf quickly considered the available options. “How many did you see?”

“There are seven on the ground. There is one in the tree over their heads. I assume he is there to protect the others. He has his crossbow drawn and loaded.”

“Puny numbers,” Lief said indignantly. “The true threat of the goblin lies in their numbers. I have heard stories of them attacking in hundreds of thousands. They darken the land and fill the sky with their arrows. I also know that they are not the bravest of creatures. Such a small group, they must be very worried. A single guard in a tree will give them little protection.”

Ryson recalled other factors and revealed them to Lief. “They mumbled a lot, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. They seemed to be looking around, almost as if they were waiting for something.”

“They are probably waiting for their numbers to swell, hiding in the trees until they feel more comfortable with the size of their group. We won’t give them a chance.”

Ryson noted the belligerent tone in the elf’s voice. “What do you intend to do?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I intend to break up their party before they grow into a threatening herd,” Lief answered with a cold chill tainting his words. He could not hide his animosity, and did not wish to. “I seek answers. These cretins may hold such answers. It is a perfect opportunity. Doubtless, they are unaware of our presence. We can take them with little difficulty. I doubt they will do little more than run.”

As if there was to be no discussion, Lief gave his orders. “I want you to approach the guard. Knock him to the ground. When you strike, I will move from lower within the trees. I intend to take at least one out with an arrow. Then, I will swoop down upon them. They will flee, but I will capture one.”

“You’re going to kill one of them?” Great reluctance became very evident in the face of the delver.

“I can’t kill anything.”

Lief’s eyes narrowed, his loathing more apparent. “I will take care of that, not you.”

“But I won’t be a part of it, either.”

The elf bit back a flash of anger. He looked almost scornfully at the delver. His own hate and dispassion for the race of goblins exploded like a flare. “Very well, I will go alone.”

“I’ll warn them,” Ryson stated firmly, revealing he had no intention of backing down.

Lief’s anger doubled, tripled. He was about to condemn the delver with every curse known to the elves, but his anger soon gave way to understanding. He saw compassion in the eyes of the delver. It was not fear which spurred Ryson to refuse the plan, it was a respect for life.

“I see,” the elf grumbled. “Is there any way to convince you that what you protect is unworthy of such lofty standards?”

“No,” Ryson responded simply.

“Very well.” Lief gave one final glance at the outline of Sanctum in the distance. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have staunchly argued the lowly worthlessness of the goblin. Their renewed existence in the land filled him with malevolence and disgust, but it also underscored the nature of his worst fears. Great magic is needed to allow goblins to pass upon the land, this was undeniable, magic which could only be found in the Sphere of Ingar. The thought hammered at him, and the growing importance of the sphere left little time to debate the issue.

“You give me no choice. I will not press you to change your mind at this time. I will only tell you that you may eventually be forced into a position where such high standards become impossible. I do not think you understand the severity of the situation you face. One day a horde of these creatures may attack your home. They will not think twice about killing every inhabitant.”

“That may be,” Ryson allowed, “but that is not yet the case. I won’t be part of unnecessary killing.”

“Like I said before, I won’t attempt to change your mind at this time. Will you accept my plan if I promise I will not hit any of the loathsome creatures with my arrow? Instead, I will send several that will miss the mark. That will serve to create confusion and force the goblins to flee. I will then capture one.”

“I’ll take your word for that,” Ryson acknowledged. “And I accept it.”

“Very good. Let us move now. Each moment we delay, the goblins entertain the chance for increasing their numbers. I will go this way.” The elf pointed to a low path within the branches to his left. “I will stop roughly forty paces from their position. When I see the guard tumble from the tree, I will shoot four or five arrows over their heads. After you take out the guard, remain within the branches. If you drop too close to the goblins, they might strike out at you in the confusion. They will not regard your life with the same high standard you afford them.”

“I understand.”

“Go now!” the elf commanded before moving off in his designated direction.

The delver paused for but a moment, then followed a different path back toward the goblins. He gritted his teeth to fight back his growing anxieties over the danger he now faced. While he remained in control of his movements, his thoughts swelled over the image of facing hundreds of goblins, no less hundreds of thousands.

What was happening to the world he lived upon? He fought the undead, traveled with an elf, and now planned to attack goblins. If not for the seriousness with which his parents told him of the legends, he would have believed himself insane. Yet now, the legends were revealing themselves to him, revealing themselves in a way which he could not simply dismiss as illusion or dream.

In such instances of distraction, Ryson focused upon the task at hand. It was time to force the maddening puzzles from his consciousness and allow the deepest of his instincts to control his movements. He stalked the goblins from above. He glided from branch to branch with such diligence that the guard had no warning of his approach.

The delver gained a position high above the guard, then moved downward. Spiraling around the trunk, Ryson used branches and leaves to cover his advance. He gained a position within arm’s reach before the goblin even knew of his existence.

The goblin shifted its head at the sign of a disturbance. It growled in surprise and fear as a shadowy figure moved swiftly toward it.

Before the puffy face turned completely about, the delver pulled the crossbow from out of its hands. He thew it aside. It crashed through the branches and fell harmlessly to the ground. Ryson quickly grabbed the heavy chest plate of the goblin. He twisted and pulled until the goblin became displaced from the thick bough it clung to.

As Ryson held the goblin aloft in mid-air, the creature looked up and snarled. Foamed spit cascaded from its angry mouth.

The creature weighed barely more than a small child, and Ryson had no difficulty in maintaining his grip. He saw the distance to the ground and decided not to simply drop the goblin. Instead, he hoped to lower it before releasing his hold, thus reducing the risk of injury to the creature.

The goblin, however, did not care about the possibility of falling. It remained far more concerned about being in the grip of a trespasser. It continued to snarl and spit as it waved its hands in the air. Suddenly, it found its balance and quickly brought its right arm to its side. The goblin grasped the hilt of a short sword and pulled the blade from its sheath.

The disturbance in the tree alerted the other goblins below. More snarls and growls erupted. The goblins raced about and around the tree. They pulled their crossbows from their backs and began pulling bolts from pouches attached to their waistbands.

Before any of the ground level goblins could load their crossbows, long powerful arrows sizzled through the air just above their heads. Four shafts whistled by with great force and plunged into the surrounding tree trunks.

The goblins fell into disarray. Their concern over their comrade above vanished instantly. Panic divided them. Without great numbers, they knew of their extreme vulnerability. They scattered without a second thought.

Ryson ignored the commotion below him. He concentrated on keeping his grip on the goblin as he lowered himself down the tree. He shook the goblin with all the force he could muster to keep the creature from striking at him.

The goblin fought against its capture. It made two attempts to strike at Ryson’s arm, but each time it failed. Just as it lifted its hand to swing, it was jostled with great force, and the blade struck empty air. It seemed ambivalent to the distance to the ground as it continued to strive for a clean strike. Such a chance opened when the goblin gained hold of another branch with its free hand. Suddenly steadied, the goblin resisted the shaking of the delver. Gleeful fury filled its eyes as it prepared to amputate Ryson’s arm.

Only the skill and quickness of being a delver allowed Ryson to avoid the blow. He released hold of the goblin and pulled his arm back. The blade of the short sword passed harmlessly through the air.

The goblin, no longer supported by the delver, found itself unprepared to maintain its grip on the branch. It could not hold its own weight and it plummeted to the ground. It landed with a perplexing bounce, almost as if its body were made of rubber. The creature appeared no worse for wear and scrambled to its feet. In but a mere instant, it was quickly scurrying off into thicker cover.

At that same moment, Lief jumped into the clearing once occupied by the goblins. He swirled his head about. His eyes darted over the different paths of the departing creatures.

With barely a delay, he seized upon one trail. He leapt after the scurrying goblin with stone-like determination. Over rocky and rooted soil, he raced through the forest keeping his eyes locked upon the fleeing creature. He slapped branches away from his path as he continued to pursue.

The goblin made chase difficult. It used its size to its advantage, choosing narrow paths under low lying branches. It jumped through thick brush whenever possible. It also turned frequently as it used its greater mobility to out distance the elf.

Lief continued to follow relentlessly even as the distance between the two increased. He ignored the stinging pain to his face as pine needles brushed against his cheeks. Eventually, however,