Delver Magic II: Throne of Vengeance, Jeff Inlo [graded readers .TXT] 📗

surely prepared to warn the algors of our attack. If they had succeeded in that, the results may have been disastrous. Based on this information, we have uncovered a great threat, a threat which now must be silenced. It is now imperative that we find the disloyal dwarves that betrayed our cause. We can not allow them to hamper our efforts.”

Yave barely heard Strog’s words. The thought of more enemies burned her thoughts, not the disloyal dwarves but the delver and the elves. Ryson Acumen, Lief Woodson, Holli Brances; all of them were with Tun when he died. None of them did anything to save her son. They were as guilty as the algors, as guilty as Jon. Now, they moved to join forces against her.

“Is there no end to this injustice?” she ranted. “They kill my son, the true heir to my throne, but they are not satisfied. Now, they wish to help those most responsible. They will all pay.” Again she wished to hurl something across the room, but her hand was empty. The innocent object that suffered at her last tirade, the goblet, rested too far away to retrieve. Her fist pounded down upon the arm of her throne.

“They failed in their attempt,” Strog stated victoriously, as if the queen had nothing to rave about. “My forces crushed the algors before they could be warned. There is little left of the algors in the Lacobian, certainly too few and too disorganized to mount a successful response attack. I need only send my army on another offensive tonight, and the algors will be vanquished completely. We will then destroy their stronghold. Though there are still many wandering about the desert, they are isolated. They will not be allowed to regroup, and without their stronghold, they will have no place to coordinate any counter-offensive. Those that are left will be forced to wander the desert, and we will pick them off one by one.”

“Fool!” Yave cursed. “You spout as if you have won. You have won nothing. The elves have shown they are willing to ally with the algors. The humans as well, the delver will convince them. When you send our army back into the desert, we will be open to attack. The elves are from Dark Spruce, they know the entrance to our city. This is exactly the opportunity they will be looking for.”

The War Com stared at the queen in total bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”

Yave ranted with hostility. Her voice shifted in volume and tone, exemplifying the twisted path of her thoughts. “Holli Brances and Lief Woodson! They come from Dark Spruce. They are angry with us for cutting off trade. They are looking for an excuse to attack us. They don’t trust us. That is why they were going to offer their assistance to the algors. Just as they saw that Tun was killed, they will see the rest of us dead as well. The delver, all delvers, they live with humans. They can not be trusted. Ryson Acumen will see that the humans side with the elves and the algors. His sympathy is with them, that is why he was in the desert!”

Strog did not know how to deal with Yave’s madness. He spoke with uncertainty, his own confidence faltering, his voice was halting. “My spies say nothing of coordinated elf movements. My reports say they are preparing for the dormant season, nothing more.”

“Your spies did not tell you of the delver and the two elves going into the Lacobian.”

“I can not keep track of each individual elf.”

“But you admit the elves must have found out about our plans to attack the algors. You spoke of dwarves who were informing the elves. Your spies did not uncover this either.”

“But there is nothing to indicate the elves are preparing to attack.”

“What do you need to see? The elves and humans banded together with swords drawn in this very room? I tell you the signs are there. They are allied with the algors.”

Strog threw open his hands. His features curled into a grotesque frown. “So what is it you think we should do?”

“We must attack,” she hissed like a cobra about to strike.

“That is what I said,” Strog groaned with frustration. Yave’s madness was unyielding, it drove him to astonishment. “We will attack the algors tonight. Finish them off.”

Yave slapped him across his face. His beard muffled the clap of her palm against his cheek. Still, the quick smack resonated through the throne room, served as a precursor for yet another tirade by the queen.

“You fool! You damned fool! Not the algors. We can deal with them later. The elves are the threat, the elves and the humans. We must attack them now. Attack them before they can attack us.”

Strog was too shocked to react. No dwarf had ever dared strike him. He was powerful, able to pull stone apart with his bare hands. He could have yanked Yave’s head from her neck with but a simple tug. The slap, however, meant less than the fact that she was actually challenging his tactics, his battle strategy. She, who had no network of intelligence, no soldiers to command, no experience in battle, she was telling him who to attack and when. Ludicrous.

“Attack the elves?” His face twisted with mystification. The plan had no military merit whatsoever. Open a second front, another battle enemy when the first was not yet destroyed, the concept was ridiculous.

Yave scorned his shock. “You would have them attack us while your army is in the Lacobian desert? No. Recall our forces at once. Divide them into separate divisions. One to handle the humans, the other to attack the elves in Dark Spruce.”

The outrageousness of her suggestion made him forget her physical attack upon his face. The possible redeployment of his army to handle a threat which did not exist defied all reason. Strog shook his head vehemently. “No! No! That is not sound. We have two important objectives that must be fulfilled right now! We must ferret out disloyal dwarves in Dunop and we must finish off the algors. We must not attack the elves while the algors remain a threat. And we can not even conceive of another attack plan until we know which dwarves are revealing our secrets to the elves.”

“Which is even more reason to attack the elves now!” Yave shouted over him. “If they have set up a network of spies, does that not convince you of their ill-will? Consider the pure, simple facts. If the elves knew we were to attack the algors, they also know the extent of our forces to protect our own city.”

Strog stammered. Yave’s distortion of the obvious forced him to consider irrelevant factors. For a moment, he began to question his own tactics, second-guess the very actions which so far had led to overwhelming victory.

“It is true the city is ill prepared to fight off an attack,” he conceded. “I used the core of our forces to attack the algors. I wanted to make our attack complete. I needed warriors to fill the algor stronghold. I also need sentries in the desert to track movement.”

Strog caught himself. What was he doing? Why was he even entertaining these thoughts? His strategies were sound. Why listen to the delusions of a deranged, vengeful queen? His objection spilled from his lips like water over a dam. “No! This is madness. I have deployed my forces with reason. As I said before, there is no sound military tactic in redeploying our forces. We must see to the end of the algors before we consider a threat that does not exist. The elves will not attack us.”

Yave glared. She throttled her fury, her madness. She embraced the power and the authority that was hers as queen and shoved it in Strog’s face. “I am not asking you, I am telling you. You will hold your attack on the algors. You will recall your army and you will attack the elves and humans.”

Strog stood at the edge, but a hair’s width from crossing the dangerous threshold of refusing the queen’s authority, of perhaps even committing regicide. Why not? They had overthrown Jon. Yave was their puppet. Why continue the charade?

The answer held his hands from violence. There were still dwarves who resisted the separatists, spies revealing secrets to the elves. They were small in number, probably only a handful, but they underscored the continued need for a puppet leader. Yave would keep the masses of Dunop pacified, while the separatists fought for greater control. They would remove her, eventually, but not now. Now, they could ill-afford a civil war.

Strog scowled, decided to maintain his cloak of service to the queen. It took long moments and the self-control of a seasoned warrior and general, but he answered with veiled respect to her authority.

“Of course it is your decision, but it is my duty to inform you of the great risks involved in such an undertaking.” His words were cold and they sickened him as he spoke. “It is your will, but attacking the elves and humans at this moment entails factors you may not have considered. First, there is the fact that dwarves within Dunop must still be communicating with the elves in Dark Spruce. Otherwise, how would they have known to warn the algors? What good would it do to develop battle strategies against the elves if those same plans will be revealed to the enemy?”

Yave shrugged with contempt at the need for strategy. “What plans do you need? They are elves, we are dwarves. We know where their camp is. Strike and attack at night.”

Strog bit down on his lip before continuing with other objections. “And what of the humans? Where do I center my attack? Burbon? Pinesway? Connel? Even farther? The humans outnumber us. They have towns spread across the land. To attack even a quarter of their known villages, I would have to divide my army into nothing more than raiding parties that would make goblins laugh and would be decimated in seconds.”

Yave folded her arms. She rose from her chair and stomped across the room. Her foot reached the goblet and kicked it back against the wall. Another dent bent the rim. She turned away, whirled about and paced heavily back to her throne. She grumbled about the humans multiplying like rodents, filling the far corners of the land. She threw her gaze back at Strog as an idea developed in her angry tormented mind.

“Then we’ll have to increase the size of our army.”

Strog shook his head. “Every available dwarf in Dunop is already within our service.”

“Then look beyond Dunop.”

“You can’t be serious,” Strog responded sternly. “Do you really think other cities will join us? They remain under the rule of long standing royalty. I doubt royal leaders will be willing to ally with us. They view us as renegades, a threat to their own rule. Until our movement spreads, we must rely on our own strength.”

The queen again turned and paced the room. This time she allowed the mangled goblet a reprieve. She left it alone.

Strog settled in a sense of relief. He had talked the queen out of these senseless judgments. He was once more in control of tactical decisions. There would be no foolishness, no absurd attacks upon the elves and the humans, at least not until the algors were destroyed, or so he believed.

Yave barked a single command as she strode toward the door. “Follow me!”

Strog obeyed, not out of respect for her authority, but out of curiosity. What did she want of him now? What foolish ideas would her madness lead them upon? The metal soles of Strog’s war boots clicked first against the stone hallway, and