Delver Magic I: Sanctum's Breach - Jeff Inlo (the best motivational books .txt) 📗
- Author: Jeff Inlo
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A throng of fifty or more voices spoke in somber unison. While the chorus rang with clarity, its tone of anguish could not be denied. “No, we can not.”
A single voice spoke out immediately after to throw one last dilemma at the delver.
“Connel is a human town. We can not go there.”
Holli took the reins of the discussion for the first time and settled the matter quickly.
“We will bring you to my camp first. My people will see that you are brought into Connel unnoticed and protected. We will see that the humans do not harm you.”
“Then it’s settled,” Ryson accented the point. “All you have to do is decide which of you will accompany us.”
For the first time since crowding around Ryson and Holli, the algors turned their attention towards themselves. Heads bobbed about. Calls were shouted to and fro. The rumble of disconcerted voices turned into a roar. Every algor spoke at once, every algor shouted something different. None listened to what the next said.
The mass began to move again, but not in unison, not like the tightly defined group that brought them down from the canyon wall. Instead, algors moved independently and in every direction. They pressed passed the right and left of one another. They circled clockwise and counter clockwise. Some pushed to the forefront of the circle. Others left completely, returning to the holes high in the sandstone cliff face.
Ryson could not imagine a more confused sight. Like dry leaves scattered by the four winds, the algors mulled about without purpose or direction. If the delver hoped to gain any group consensus, such hope faded in this churning mass.
He rubbed his forehead with his hand, unsure of what to say or do next. At this point, he doubted he would have been heard even if he shouted. Algor after algor continued to step past, each mumbling or shouting something to a crowd that could not hear and did not wish to listen.
“This is ridiculous,” Ryson mumbled to Holli. “I don’t think we have time for this. Do you have any suggestions?”
Holli simply shook her head.
Ryson heaved a heavy, exasperated breath. He watched another group of algors vanish into the sandstone. He wondered if they would return, he wondered if it mattered. They were still encircled by hundreds of algors.
As he turned about to gauge the actual numbers that remained, he noticed many walking off into the desert by themselves. They walked without care, off into the barren desert as if it were nothing more than a casual walk in a small park. Those that left in this manner, left alone. They drifted off in separate directions, in every direction; north, south, east and west. Some rounded the wall of the sandstone canyon, others walked off toward the high dunes of the southeast. One after another they disappeared into the bright sand which continued to reflect the late afternoon sun.
As algors continued to leave into the sandstone caves or out into the vastness of the open desert, the numbers of algors which remained about Ryson and Holli dwindled. Soon, there was but fifty. They continued to speak out their minds as they moved about without form or pattern. The roar had also diminished. Now, their calls mounted to nothing more than a rumble. Still, Ryson could not make out any of what they said.
Suddenly, they stopped. They stopped talking. They reformed a tight circle about Ryson and Holli and stopped moving. Roughly twenty of the fifty voices called out to together.
“It is decided, we will accompany you.”
Ryson could not mask his surprise. “All of you? There’s about fifty.”
“We are the most interested,” the voices again rang out in unison. “The others have left it to us.”
Joy over having the algors accept his plea mixed with apprehension over leading fifty back through the desert, to Holli’s camp, and ultimately into Connel. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to bring so many,” Ryson stammered.
“Why?” the chorus questioned.
“It will attract too much attention,” Ryson responded. “And it will be dangerous. How am I going to keep you together when we get to Dark Spruce Forest? What if we’re attacked by goblins? For that matter, how am I going to conceal a group of fifty algors walking into Connel?”
The unity of the algors again disintegrated. One by one shouts disseminated from the smaller circle.
“If one goes, we all go.”
“It will be more dangerous.”
“A smaller group can travel faster.”
“Who is to choose who goes?”
“Let the delver choose.”
Ryson responded quickly to the last remark.
“You can’t leave that to me,” he insisted. “I’m not the one that should make that decision. We need algors that can speak for all of you. How do I know that? We also need algors that know the legend and the secrets of Sanctum.”
“Any algor which stands before you can fulfill that task,” the group again spoke in unity. “What one knows, we all know. We keep no secrets from each other.”
“Then it doesn’t matter which of you go. I shouldn’t have to choose at all. You can decide,” Ryson offered hopefully.
“How many do you suggest accompany you?”
“How about four?” Ryson speculated.
“No less than ten,” the group responded. “But you must choose.”
Ryson again looked to Holli for assistance, but got nothing more than a shrug.
Again he addressed the fifty. “Are you sure about this?”
“You must choose.”
Ryson accepted the responsibility with great reluctance, but accept it he did. Randomly, he began tapping the shoulders of algors around him. He counted out numbers as he moved about the circle. When he reached ten, he returned to the center.
“If I touched your shoulder, you will come with us.”
Without any dissent and without making a sound, the forty not chosen removed themselves from the circle. Some went off into the desert, some returned to the sandstone wall.
The ten moved in closer to the delver and elf. All ten spoke together. “You will lead us now to the elf camp.”
Ryson held up his hand. “I don’t want to head off just like that. We’ve had a long journey to get here and it’s going to be a long walk back. It’s late and the sun will set soon. For now, I would hope you would offer us a place to camp. The time of rest will be well spent.”
Holli said nothing, but her expression revealed her relief.
“We can stay the night within the canyon,” the algors replied. “But we will leave before dawn.”
“Agreed,” Ryson stated. “Keep in mind, this is going to be a long and potentially dangerous journey. Do you have any weapons to bring with you?”
“We will bring our slings.” It was all they said before they turned and stepped up to the wall of the canyon.
Ryson and Holli looked at each other before following the small group up a short climb and into a hole in the sandstone mountain.
Ryson glanced over his shoulder for the third time in a span of but twenty paces. He said nothing to the others, but he noticed Holli making similar checks. They had left the loose sand and the dry wind behind them, but he doubted it was the fading sight of the desert which called to her.
He knew she was happy to be upon solid footing, away from the shifting sands and the bone scorching heat. A few stubborn trees sprung up from the rock hard ground. He knew that sight brought her solace. Even now, larger clusters of trees poked above the horizon in the direction they traveled. Before the sun dropped from its peak in the sky, they would be within sight of Dark Spruce Forest.
He knew she was well aware of this, yet her attention clearly focused on their flanks and not upon the path ahead. Her weary glances to their rear far surpassed her normal cautiousness. Her darting eyes continued to scan the land in every direction, but he could not deny that her sweeping glances to the southwest were more deliberate. He could also not deny that her apparent concern simply matched his own.
Perhaps she spotted something, or heard something; Ryson could not tell. He had not seen or heard anything as of yet, but he, too, was well aware of something which followed them. He believed it picked up their trail just as the sandy terrain gave way to the rocks of these canyons and hills which separated the forest from the desert. Whatever it was, it was keeping out of sight and paying careful attention to the wind. Only during sudden shifts, caused by breaks in the rocky hills, did Ryson pick up an unfamiliar scent. It disappeared quickly, as if that which pursued them noticed the change and adjusted its position to compensate.
He did not recognize the scent, for it was totally unfamiliar. Frustration loomed as his ever observant senses failed to identify the threat. He knew it had little to do with the algors that accompanied him. He had spent many hours resting and traveling with the ten that now walked at his side. In that time, he grew accustomed to them, etched an understanding of their appearance, their sounds, and their scents into his mind. Whatever followed was surely far removed from the race of algors.
But there was also something else which nagged at the delver - a second threat; something that moved behind the first pursuer. He could almost sense a third party; someone or something which remained far in the distance. He was not totally sure, no true signs he could point to, only a penetrating sensation that a second pair of eyes followed them as well.
He wondered if it was nothing more than nerves, overcompensation for dealing with the magic. Or it might have been the magic itself; some strange spell that drifted in the air and confused his senses.
Even as he considered this explanation, he could not accept it. The feeling of being watched, of being followed; this was a sensation he experienced before, before the magic tumbled back into the land. It was a feeling his mother and father told him to trust, a feeling which was part of being a delver.
He would not doubt his instincts. Such an act would be more than foolish. He now accepted the fact that they were being followed not by just one, but by two separate individuals or groups.
With acceptance came the need for a solution. If they were being followed, it represented a threat and endangered his mission. If he was to succeed, he must identify these threats, and ultimately remove them.
He considered the facts. The closest pursuer was acting more like a hunter; moving with stealth, but taking risks to close the gap. Its intentions were obviously far more ruthless than that of the second entity. Ryson wondered if even Holli was aware of the second follower. He doubted it, for it was only a deep sensation within himself which alerted him to that presence. Thus, his mind set upon the nearest hazard.
Ryson turned his attention to their own trail and looked upon the ground they passed over. He, himself, left no mark upon the ground. The elf guard also left no sign, but the clawed toes of the algors made unmistakable scratches in
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