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

He stood quietly appreciating the view of the stars hanging over Sanctum. To him, the heavens shined with greater glory over this bold rock, making the mountain less massive, less daunting. He smiled as he compared the vastness of the star covered sky against this now pitiful looking stone edifice. He recalled his feeling of dread when he first saw the mountain’s gnarled rock sides looming through the forest. He remembered wondering how they might overcome such a monument, but the stars defied Sanctum’s size. They hung high above it, filling the sky, filling space far more encompassing than that which was seized by this single mountain. They served as a reminder that man’s triumphs, man’s constructions, even the symbol of Sanctum as ageless as it was, could be easily matched and conquered by the true powers that shaped the land, the seas, and the heavens.

His moments of reflection were brought to an end by Mappel’s approach from behind. He took one last glimpse of the view before turning to face the elder elf.

“What were you discussing?” he asked rather aloofly.

“I wish to start my climb,” Mappel responded with an edge to his voice. His desires were as clear as the stars. He wished to reach Sanctum’s summit as soon as possible. With the rain stopped and the stars producing sufficient light, he would wait no longer. “I hope you will accompany me. The algors wish to stay. They say they will tend to the horses. They don’t believe they should be left alone in the night. They worry that goblins might strike and steal them or even kill them.”

“That’s good of them, and of course, I will accompany you,” Matthew responded, but he turned to inspect Sanctum’s unwelcoming visage. The wetness of its slopes was evident in its reflection of the starlight. “But should we not wait? We could rest and begin our climb at daybreak. It will be less dangerous for us both.”

Mappel shook his head sternly. “I doubt either of us could sleep knowing what we know. Rest will do us no good. As for waiting for the sun, I am hopeful that it will not take that long for our friends to complete their quest. They reached the summit just beyond nightfall. Though I only know what waits for them in the elf tier, I can’t imagine their journey would take the entire night. I truly believe if they are successful they will return before daybreak. I wish to be there to greet them when they emerge.”

“What of the climb?” Matthew nodded to Sanctum. “The rock is wet from the rain. Can we make such an ascent with the ground revealed only by starlight?”

“I am willing to try,” Mappel replied steadfast to his decision. “Holli stated she would leave ropes for us at the most treacherous parts.”

“Very well,” Matthew conceded. “I won’t let you go alone. If one of us gets hurt the other will need to bring the algors for help.”

“Then let us begin,” Mappel eyed the closest mountain path. He took one committed step forward before Matthew requested he hold his unbridled eagerness to start the climb.

“At least, let me retrieve my pack,” the reader pointed to the shelter. “I would like for us to at least have food and water up there, just in case our wait becomes longer than you anticipate.”

Matthew retrieved his pack and wished luck to the algors that would guard the horses. He had to trot to catch up to Mappel, who would not wait even for a moment. The elf had stepped lively to Sanctum’s base, all the while eyeing its flat peak. His desire to reach it pressed him with impatience, but the rocky slopes quickly devoured such zeal.

The two struggled to ascend Sanctum. Neither was truly fit nor able for such a climb. Neither had the algors claws, or a delver’s ability, and neither had the strength of youth. Unlike the group of ten that preceded them, Matthew and Mappel moved slowly, clumsily up the mountain. With each step their breath became heavier and more labored. The wet rock increased the strain on their aching calf muscles as they both slipped numerous times. Even with Mappel’s hard-edged resolution to reach the summit, they both requested breaks at several intervals.

Finally, joyously, they reached the end of the third rope and stood just below the ledge of Sanctum’s flattened peak. A clear path rounded upward and over the last of rock that blocked their view of the top. Mappel struck upon the path with steady, but pained steps. The climb had taken much longer than he hoped, and he would delay no longer. He stepped clear of the last angle of slope and onto level ground. His labored breath, the trembling ache in his legs and palms, all vanished as there he found what he had hoped to see.

Glowing pale white, but dimmer than the stars, Mappel betook the view of a spirit, the form of an elf, the form of Shayed. The ghostly apparition did not face him, did not even appear aware of his approach. It faced a dark hole in the center of the peak’s platform. Mappel called to the spirit’s back.

“Shayed?” he called just above a whisper.

Ingar, still in masquerade, nearly turned with swift anger at the approach of an intruder, nearly turned with red glowing embers for eyes to smite the invader. His attention had been placed fully upon the ten within Sanctum. He knew their progress, knew they stood upon the middle tier. Mappel’s call startled him.

In a split second of self-control, he caught himself in mid-turn, saving his charade. He forced the red glow from his eyes, and carried the true visage of the spirit he portrayed. He finished his turn slowly and cautiously, to face the newly arrived spectators of Mappel and Matthew with calm demeanor.

They were not unknown to him. He had seen them when they were with the ten, had seen them as the true Shayed had envisioned them in the basement at the Church of Godson. He recognized the elder elf who had taken the reins of leadership during that time, and he felt the presence of Godson in the reader.

He so desired to scoff at them both, to laugh in their faces as he revealed his true identity. To smite them into gray ashes with a bolt of red lightning, but he kept his restraint. He continued the masquerade as he bid them welcome.

“It is good to see you weary travelers. I see you wait as I wait.” His words were masked with kindness and sincerity, while what was left of his soul wished to pull their hearts from their bodies.

“It is an honor to meet you, Shayed.” Mappel bowed. “I am Mappel and this is Matthew.”

“You are both known to me. Those that have passed alerted me to your presence.”

“We would have made the climb with the others but we were afraid we might slow their ascent. That fear would have proven correct. It was not an easy climb for us.”

“Nothing is easy in these times.” Ingar nearly lost himself. The charade was becoming amusing. It was beyond simplicity to fool these dolts, to engage in idle banter. He almost laughed out loud as he bubbled with these false trite sayings, but he continued with an even tone. “Even now the gravest of tasks becomes necessary to those within.”

“You can sense what they do even now? Do you know of their progress?” Growing hope painted Mappel’s words.

Ingar paused, considered how he should answer the question. It might bring him greater amusement to keep the senile elf in complete darkness. He decided, however, to reveal the truth, to raise the fool’s hopes only to dash them in the end. How fulfilling it would be to watch all of their faces fill with agony when they finally realized the true purpose they served.

“They have successfully passed the dwarf tier as well as the human’s. They have reached the delver’s tier,” the false Shayed revealed.

Both Matthew and Mappel reveled in the news. Smiles blanketed their mouths as the elf pressed for further information. “That is the tier which holds a mystery for them. How do they fare?”

“The delver obstacle has been overcome.” Again, Ingar had to steady himself to keep from laughing in the face of these simpletons. How willingly they held to their false hopes.

“Have any of them suffered any injury?” Matthew asked trying to guard his optimism.

“They all remain unharmed,” Ingar revealed, joyously fanning their enthusiasm.

Mappel turned to Matthew with great delight. “Do you hear reader? They are well and they have overcome the obstacle for which they held no answer. They need but pass only two tiers now, the algors’ and the elve’s. I believe we might yet succeed.”

Those words ended Ingar’s amusement. Contempt replaced it. He eyed the human and the elf with renewed disdain. He saw something beyond relief and joy in their faces. He saw confidence, a dangerous thing, a thing which bred courage. If these pathetic creatures believed they could overcome Sanctum, they might believe in anything.

At that moment, he considered a possible folly in his plans. What would happen when they exited Sanctum with the sphere in hand? They would surely give it to him upon his command, but what would occur next? He would be forced to reveal his intentions, his charade would be over. Undoubtedly, they would challenge him. Surely his power would increase while in contact with the sphere, but would it be enough? Confident in themselves and brought together by their victory over Sanctum, they might attempt to overcome him. Even with the sphere in his hands, he might be defeated by their newfound courage.

Worse yet, what if they held to the sphere? What if they denied him the power that was rightfully his? Might they some how find a way to destroy the sphere before he was able to drink of its power? He doubted the plausibility of such a contingency, but as he probed the spirits of the ten within Sanctum, he sensed a growing boldness. Even now they plotted a way to reach the sphere which would reduce their own risk. Each success was bringing them closer together, and feeding their will to succeed.

He played out the image of their success in his deranged mind. They would exit free of Sanctum together. Without distraction, their focus would be placed squarely upon the sphere and their intention of destroying it. That would indeed be very dangerous to his plans.

Perhaps it was time to place a burden upon them, to let them know just how vulnerable their lives truly were. It was now his desire to let those within Sanctum taste defeat. He wished not to end their quest, but to shake their confidence, to give them a distraction that would break their thoughts from their ultimate goal.

He linked his own deranged thoughts to the awareness of the sphere, a strange coupling. The sphere’s consciousness was incomplete, less than infantile, and his was demented. Together, their twisted and incomplete minds gave birth to a single deranged idea.