Delver Magic I: Sanctum's Breach, Jeff Inlo [buy e reader .txt] 📗

he realized the futility of his chase. He pulled to a halt and quickly drew an arrow from his quiver. He placed it upon the string of his bow, but before he could draw, the delver called to him.

“Don’t shoot it!” Ryson commanded. The delver darted past the elf almost as a blur. Such was the speed he moved past Lief, the elf felt a small breeze.

Ryson took up the chase where Lief left off, but the delver moved at far greater speed. He cut through each barrier of the forest as if it were nothing more than tissue paper. He turned with pinpoint accuracy and quickly cut the distance between himself and the goblin. In mere moments, he reached out and grabbed the back of the goblin’s neck.

This time, the delver would take no chances in losing control of the creature. His hand darted to the goblin’s belt and beat the creature to the handle of the short sword. He drew it away from the creature but held it threateningly.

The goblin eyed first the point of its own sword and then the delver. It hissed once, then became still, as if accepting its fate.

Ryson carried the goblin to a clearing in the forest. He dropped it to the ground but made it clear the goblin was not to move. He kept his eyes on the creature as he called for the elf.

Lief arrived quickly. As he stepped nearer to the goblin, he examined it sternly. He folded his arms across his chest and looked down on the goblin with great contempt.

“Why have you returned to these lands?!” The elf spoke with a cold demanding voice.

At first the goblin did not answer.

“Do not try my patience,” Lief advised sternly. “You were captured by a delver, a full-bred delver. He can capture another one with the same ease he caught you. If you do not speak, I will dispose of you and we will bring another captive to your lifeless body. I am sure the next will be more willing to talk.”

The goblin snarled at the elf before casting a wary eye upon Ryson. The creature looked him over carefully.

“You are delver?” the creature finally spoke. Its lips snarled as the voice carried with a low-toned whisper.

“Yes,” Ryson managed. He felt ill at ease actually speaking to such a diminutive monster.

“What is your name?”

Ryson did not answer.

“Your name?!” the creature demanded.

“Tell him,” the elf advised while keeping a cold stare upon the goblin.

“My name is Ryson Acumen.”

The goblin paused. It stood stoic as if going through long past memories in its head. With a nod of futility, the goblin turned its attention back to the elf.

“If I tell you what you ask, will you release me?”

“I make no promises,” Lief responded coldly.

“Then neither do I. I shall tell you nothing unless you give me your word for freedom. Otherwise, threaten me all you wish.”

“I will release you only if you speak the truth,” the elf conceded. “If I sense a shred of lies in your answers, I will deal with you harshly. Answer me without lies and I will release you to the forest, but I will not return your weapons. That is my word.”

“No weapon?! I will be defenseless!” the goblin protested vehemently.

“Find your friends. They shall have to assist you.”

“I may not find them in time.”

“Enough!” Lief roared. “Your time is up. Take my word now or we shall begin our hunt for another. What is your answer?!”

“I agree to accept your word,” the goblin stated. “What are your questions?”

The elf sneered at the goblin. “Why are you here?”

“The magic allows us to be here,” the goblin replied shortly.

“The magic of the sphere?”

“If you speak of the orb created by Ingar, I can not say.”

The elf’s eyes narrowed in anger and distrust. “Do not forget my word. I will only release you if you speak the truth.”

“I speak the truth,” the creature stated dispassionately. “I know not where the magic comes from. All I know is its presence. It is here and I am here.”

“What has happened to the sphere?” the elf demanded.

“I do not know.”

“Have your kind seized it?!”

“I do not know.”

The elf boiled over with anger. He raised an arm to strike out at the goblin.

The goblin hissed, but veered away. It crouched down spitting and snarling in a defensive position.

Lief moved forward but Ryson cut between him and the goblin.

“That won’t help,” the delver protested.

“I grow tired of listening to these ridiculous replies!” Lief growled. “It states the magic lets it be here, yet it refuses to tell me where the magic comes from. This creature must be taught that I will not tolerate such things!”

Ryson continued to block the elf’s path to the goblin. “But what if it’s telling the truth?”

The elf did not respond. He stared angrily at the goblin, but made no further attempt to move forward.

“Maybe it really doesn’t know,” Ryson suggested. He then turned his attention to the goblin. He spoke softly but sternly.

“Do you know where the magic is coming from?”

The goblin eyed the delver carefully before answering. “No, but I would guess it is from the orb.”

“Why?”

“Not since the orb was encased in the mountain have we been able to walk these lands. But now, we can do so again.”

“Where do you come from?”

“Another place.”

“How does the magic help you here?”

“It opens the door, unlocks the gate and lets us through. For ages we have been unable to break through, but now the door is open once more.”

Ryson considered the goblin’s answer before continuing. “Do you know what might have happened to allow this?”

“No,” the goblin stated flatly.

“Do you know what has happened to the sphere?”

“No.”

Ryson turned to his companion with a questioning glance. “Does any of this help answer your questions?”

“Not at all. All I can be sure of is that the sphere is free from containment. This creature might say the goblins have nothing to do with that, but its presence so close to the mountain casts much doubt. I would not be surprised if we have heard nothing but lies.”

“I have not lied!” the goblin objected vigorously. “I have not lied in order to hold you to your bargain. You are an elf, you have given your word. I have done everything that will force you to hold to that word. You must release me!”

“I will keep to my word,” Lief stated coldly. “You will finish answering my questions first. Why are you here, at Sanctum Mountain?”

“It is where the door leads us,” the goblin answered through a sneer.

“How many have entered the land so far?”

“More than I know.”

“Where are they now? We only counted seven besides you.”

“They are scouting the lands in small parties. We stayed behind to await others that will cross over.”

“What are your plans in this land?”

The goblin spoke forcibly and defiantly. “What they have always been. We are here to conquer. We will take our rightful place as leader of this land. Our numbers will swell until we are as the ocean. We will sweep across every territory, we will …”

“Enough!” Lief ordered. He mulled over the goblin’s words for but a moment. He proposed one final question. “Do you know how to close this door which lets the goblins enter this land?”

“If I did, I would not tell you even if it meant my life,” the goblin stated scornfully. “Even if it allowed you to back away from your bargain, I would not tell you. The truth remains that I do not know how to open or close the door. It is the magic which does so. Thus, I have answered truthfully. I hold you to your bargain, elf!”

“Very well. Leave my sight! But heed this warning. The elves are now aware of your presence. If the age old war must resume, we shall be ready. Your numbers have never turned a single battle in history. Also be warned, my bargain stands for this moment alone. If we meet again, you will not survive.”

The goblin responded with angry spit at the feet of the elf. It turned and raced into the forest.

The delver and elf stood beside each other and watched the creature disappear into the thickening woods. Lief turned his head and motioned to the short sword which remained in the hand of the delver.

“It seems you now have a trophy of your capture.”

Ryson held the sword aloft as he inspected it carefully. It was a crude weapon, hardly a fine piece of handcraft. The blade was sharp and sturdy, but it lacked any true dignity or style. It held no proud etchings, nor did it shine with any degree of polish. The handle remained plain and functional. No stones or jewels decorated its base. The sword served its ultimate purpose as a weapon, nothing more.

“Hardly a thing to look at,” Ryson admitted.

“True enough,” Lief agreed. “A goblin’s short sword is practical. It will, however, assist you in battle greater than your own dagger. I suggest you hang on to it for now.”

The mention of battle reminded Ryson of the final words of the goblin and the elf. The bitterness between the two and the mention of war weighed heavily upon him. He could not help but pose a question. “How many goblins will end up here?”

“If the magic is truly free, more than we will ever count.”

“That’s a frightening thought.”

“There are more frightening aspects of what we face. The goblins are pawns, pawns to the magic, pawns to other more powerful and more evil creatures. They are probably the least of our worries.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Unfortunately, no. The Sphere of Ingar is the most powerful and dangerous talisman ever created. Its freedom means the return of more than just goblins. Elflore tells of many monsters which disappeared after the encasing of the sphere. Its freedom may mean the return of all of them. River rogues, vampires, mountain shags, endless undead warriors; all may be walking upon our land as we speak.”

Ryson did not respond. He looked vacantly out into the forest and beyond to the shadows of Sanctum Mountain.

“All of these creatures in themselves are dangerous,” the elf continued, “but they pale in comparison to the release of the magic. It is the magic that truly threatens the elves. I wonder how many of my camp are already falling ill. No, the goblins are the least of our worries. We must concentrate upon the fate of the sphere.”

That was the second time Lief mentioned possible suffering of the elves. Ryson wished for further clarification, but even with the great pull of his curiosity, he knew this was not the time or place for such discussions. He took a chance to survey the area. He looked through the trees in order to gain a perspective of the sun. It was fully behind Sanctum Mountain which was just ahead of them to the west.

“We can probably reach a clearing on the side of the mountain before dark,” the delver stated, “but I don’t think that’s advisable. We should camp here for the night. The trees can offer us greater protection.”

“I agree,” Lief said with a nod of acceptance. He hated allowing time to pass through his fingers, but he could not deny the circumstances of the moment. If goblin scouting parties moved about, it would not do well to be caught in the open without cover. “Let me suggest, though, that we do not choose a site so close to the spot where the