Delver Magic II: Throne of Vengeance - Jeff Inlo (diy ebook reader .txt) 📗

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