Delver Magic I: Sanctum's Breach - Jeff Inlo (the best motivational books .txt) 📗
- Author: Jeff Inlo
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He only took one small backward shuffle when the hand of the cliff behemoth held him resolutely.
“We are here,” Dzeb announced with gentle firmness.
Ryson nearly turned about with unbridled anticipation, nearly swerved from his point of focus with both hand and eye. He wished to view the object of their quest, to see the talisman that represented a legion of myths and legends. His desire was such that for a brief moment he forgot his sword and its purpose. Had the grip of the cliff behemoth not held him so staunchly, the point of his sword would have lost contact with the blast hole above. He would have broken the beam which kept the waiting nightmares at bay, leaving them at the mercy of the shadow trees, creations which had no mercy.
To their fortune, braced by Dzeb’s powerful hands, Ryson was unable to turn. In an instant, he realized the folly of his intentions, and the consequence of the sword intensified in his mind. His arm stiffened as if trying to reinforce the invisible beam. His eyes followed the length of the blade to ensure the direction of its point. With the sword’s importance reaffirmed in his consciousness, he stretched his arm out toward the light source with the same tenacity in which he gritted his teeth. He silently thanked everything about him for Dzeb’s presence.
With renewed focus to keep the sword steady, Ryson carefully turned only his head to gaze at the sight which spurred Dzeb’s remark. His path had led them true, and the shadow trees now parted to reveal the final resting place of Ingar’s sphere. Peering over his shoulder, his eyes fell upon the vessel which held the talisman for the passing of so many cycles. The cleansing light had freed a section of the reflectors from the grip of the trees. The metal sheets lined with silver which encapsulated the sphere were now visible for all to see.
The reflectors had weathered the test of time, but not the power of the sphere’s intentions. The metal sheets showed no sign of rust, the visible silver linings remained intact, but the enclosure had been penetrated with the same fury which bore a tunnel through the side of Sanctum. Jagged, broken edges of thick metal testified to the power of the blast which the sphere hurled outward to breach its tomb. Scorched, melted shards of silver attested to the heat which accompanied the blast of force.
With this fracture in the surrounding reflectors, there was nothing to hide the pedestal within or its mount. The sphere rested seemingly innocently upon the small stone platform. It neither glowed nor pulsated. It simply waited upon its column of support as if it expected the three visitors.
From his unmoving stance, Ryson sized up the talisman. He remembered its origin as told to him by Lief, recalled that it was forged from the skins of each of the races. Its structure, however, lacked such characteristics. To him, it appeared constructed more of marble than of flesh. He had expected it to be brown and leathery, perhaps spotty and rough, but it was grayish white and it appeared smooth. It was perfectly round like a child’s ball without the slightest hint of imperfection to its spherical shape. It was also large. He wondered if his own arms had the length to wrap completely around it. He could only wonder as to its weight. He assumed it was hollow, a shell to hold the compacted magical energies of the past, but even from a distance it appeared solid, and again, like a chiseled piece of pure marble.
His examination was cut short by Lief’s sudden directive.
“I must ask that we move quickly.” The elf coughed before he could continue. Dark circles began to form under his eyes with bizarre suddenness. He grunted as the pain of his ankle injury became more severe. “I am afraid. I can not remain this close to the sphere for much longer. We must seize it and press on.”
Urgency swept over the delver. He gave one quick glance at the end of his sword to ensure its direction, and then took a more discerning look at the space within the reflectors. The area immediately surrounding the sphere was clear of shadow trees. Ryson could only attribute this to the sphere’s great power. Its reason was not as important as its existence, for it allowed a clear path to the sphere, if the cliff behemoth would take it.
“Dzeb?” Ryson began with respect, but not hiding his urgency. “I need you to get the sphere. I can’t ask Lief to do it. It’s making him sick. I have to hold the sword. Can you reach it?”
“I believe it is why I am here,” Dzeb replied in his normal demeanor, as calm as if standing beside a deep blue mountain lake.
He moved forward with no outward expression of fear for his own safety. He completed the first part of his task with such ease, Ryson could only marvel at the spectacle.
The cliff behemoth grabbed the ragged edges of the metal sheets and tore them aside. The screeching whine of the yielding metal attested to the strength inherent in the reflectors, but they could not withstand Dzeb’s power. As if opening a door upon a hinge, Dzeb expanded the opening, leaving him plenty of room to march through. He stepped up to the pedestal, his movements still relaxed, his expression still without fear. Without so much as a hint of reluctance, he reached out and plucked the sphere from its support.
Ryson did not know exactly what to expect at that moment. He was relieved to see nothing. The sphere accepted Dzeb’s hold without struggle. It left its home of countless ages without the slightest reaction.
As Dzeb carried the sphere free from the broken casing, Lief stepped as far back from him as the shadow trees would allow. He nearly allowed his shoulders to brush against the closest of the branches. He could only wonder as to which death would be more painful, being consumed by the shadow trees or the slow decay from the poison which even now was sapping most of his strength.
“We need to move quickly,” the elf urged through a wheeze. “I need to put more space between myself and the sphere. That will not be possible while we remain in this tier.”
Ryson acknowledged the request with actions. He retraced his path with greater speed and quickly guided them to a point directly below the opening overhead. He looked to Dzeb expectantly.
“Can you still make it with the sphere?”
Dzeb seeing the pain in the elf’s face did not take the time to answer. He placed the sphere securely under one arm, bent his legs, and leapt upward with power unmatched by any other living creature. He sailed through the air, through the open space between the trees. His momentum carried him nearly completely through the opening. His ascent ceased as half his massive body was already through the aperture. With his free hand, he grasped the ledge of the upper tier. With one mighty pull, he forced himself up the remainder of the way.
As he disappeared out of sight, Lief sighed with relief. He took several deep breaths, but only appeared slightly stronger. “I believe the poison has taken a great hold within me.” He revealed with sadness filling his expression as opposed to disgust or anger.
“Can you make the climb out of here?” Ryson spoke with an edge, hoping to urge the elf onward.
“I believe so, though I don’t know what good it will do.”
“It will give you a chance,” Ryson pressed. “Free air may help. Who knows what will happen when the sphere is destroyed? And there are still the algors. They might help revive you.”
The elf replied with great fatigue hanging upon his every word. “Do not worry, Ryson. I will move forward, if only to see the end of the sphere which threatens my people.”
As if to punctuate his statement, Dzeb reared his colossal head into view of those below.
“I have placed the sphere a distance away from here. I will keep it away from Lief as long as we are within this mountain, but our exit is clear and it is time for us all to leave Sanctum.”
Lief broke through to the open air alone. He extracted himself from the fissure in Sanctum’s side to walk upon the inclined slope with labored, fatigued steps. Free of the cavern, with no stone overhead, he turned his head first to the night sky. The storm had ceased and any trace of clouds had all but vanished. The stars hung proudly overhead, but they faded to the east as the sky in that direction began to glow with an orange hue. The sun would rise soon, another day would dawn. If the poison were not cleansed from his body, he knew it would be his last day.
He waited at the side of the breach, waited for Ryson and Dzeb. They had sent him through the tunnel first, to keep him as far from the sphere as possible. They wished not to confine him in the long cramped enclosure with Ingar’s sphere. Not that it did much good. What would it save him? A few extra moments of pain? The poison already coursed fully through his body. Keeping him away from the sphere now was like keeping the cat from the canary cage after the bird had already been eaten. He was, however, too weak and too tired to argue.
He found the mountain air mildly invigorating. He inhaled deeply. The fresh crisp night filled his body with a refreshing chill. He was free of the stale air of Sanctum, and free of the shadow trees. If he could not cleanse himself of the poison, at least he could forget the terrors within the mountain. Though darkness still clung to the land, the twinkling stars and the eastern glow chased away his fear of the dark.
He sat heavily upon a large rock and crouched down to rub his ankle. It swelled slightly, pulsed with slight pain, but thankfully, it was not a severe sprain. The fatigue within him, the poison adhering to his every organ, this was the true threat to his health. He would collapse out of weakness long before this minor injury would force him to submit.
Within the fissure, Dzeb and Ryson began their ascent only after allowing Lief sufficient time to exit. They stepped quickly, each with his own certainty. The delver moved with his own inherent grace, while Dzeb stepped with the experience of living among the cliffs of the highest mountains. Dzeb held tightly to the sphere as Ryson lifted his sword to light their final passage.
As the trail curved, the last leg of the tunnel came into their sights. With the breach’s opening to the outside clearly in view, Ryson recalled his very first experience in this cavern. With powerful recollection, he gauged the exact space where the invisible barrier blocked his passage. As they closed upon it, he considered calling for a halt, but he did not. With his delver ear, he could hear Lief’s labored breathing outside the tunnel. He had made it through. He also noted the scratch marks upon the ground of the algors’ claws, as well as the lesser tracks of Jon, Stephen, Lauren
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