Delver Magic III: Balance of Fate, Jeff Inlo [most popular ebook readers .txt] 📗

The majestic Colad Mountains stood in the far distance and Ryson enjoyed gazing at their imposing outline whenever such a view became possible through the thick woods. The crisp, clear air of the dormant season and the bare trees allowed him more than a few passing glances at the northern ranges whenever he ventured up to a treetop to get a better view of the surrounding terrain. With each glimpse to the northwest, the delver knew the mountains saw far more than their normal share of extreme weather during this dormant season. Heavy snows filled not only the peaks but also far down the mountain sides. Even at the tree line, the thick white snow cover blotted out nearly all signs of green, brown or gray.

These were the days Ryson loved to travel in this region. The daylight was short, and the air was brisk, but the land around him sparkled with life even as much of it slept in dens, burrows, or under blankets of crusted snow. The normally thick underbrush of vines had withered and fallen away during the end of the harvest season as did the leaves of the low hanging branches. Paths for roaming existed in nearly limitless directions, and the delver felt the call to explore many new trails several times during his excursion. With a mind toward finding his friend, however, the delver ignored these calls and kept an eye to the fresh tracks on the ground.

His journey kept him in Dark Spruce Forest, and though Lief’s trail continued in a round about pattern, it remained to the northwest of Pinesway. At no point did Ryson ever fear that the elf had made a turn to the south and a possible encounter with Sazar and Tabris. Heavier snows in this region made the trails easier to follow as it seemed neither the river rogue nor the elf took the time to cover their tracks.

Still, the tracks of the elf appeared somewhat confusing. Lief’s trail followed that of the river rogue, apparently stalking it for a kill. It seemed quite clear to Ryson that many such opportunities arose for the elf to strike, but as far as the delver could tell, Lief never made the attempt. All the markings indicated that Lief simply continued to follow the beast, making no sincere effort to end the chase. Adding to the confusion, there were signs the elf had indeed fired his bow, but when the delver strived to learn the target, he always found the corpses of goblins, tree rakers, bloat spiders, hobsprites, and once even a snow ogre that must have ventured far from its natural mountain habitat. Every monster appeared to be felled by one of Lief’s arrows, yet the river rogue continued unabated on its own path, at times even feasting on some of Lief’s kills.

The afternoon sun hung low in the western sky when Ryson slowed his movements. He heard rustling sounds in the distance and the cackling squawks of tree rakers. Such shrieks had become common in this area of Dark Spruce since the return of dark creatures, and Ryson knew enough to remain careful when he heard them.

Tree rakers depended on the heavy growth of forests to do most of their work for them and on the panic of their prey to make their hunt successful. Thick and bulky as well as slow and ponderous, rakers hunted knowing they could never catch even the slowest of their intended victims. Instead, they created traps on well worn paths, and their cackles frightened potential prey into making mistakes that would cost them their lives.

As powerful as full grown shags, tree rakers were enabled with the strength to knock over small trees no matter how well rooted into the ground. Rakers normally worked together in small packs, usually numbering four or five. Pushing together small trees that sprouted up along the sides of wild deer paths, they quickly turned a once free and long standing trail into a corral that led to a dead end trap of intertwined branches and impassable tree trunks. As rakers where not choosey in their diet, they would wait for any potential prey—human, wild animal, or even dark creature—to venture into the area. They would then begin their shrieks sending the intended victim into a panic. Taking strategic positions to block off other exits, they hoped to compel their prey down their prearranged path. The frightened victim would become so distracted with the clamoring cries, it would never notice the trap that awaited at the end it until it was too late. The group of rakers would fall in behind their victim, blocking off any escape.

Short in stature, wide in girth, and with the thick wrinkled hide that looked much like tree bark, rakers could blend in with the forest during any season. Still, they made more than enough noise to make their presence known. At the moment, they were not close enough to the delver to present any immediate danger, and as long as Ryson moved with reasonable care, he would be able to avoid them with ease.

On previous trips to this region of Dark Spruce, the delver spent time becoming more acquainted with the calls of rakers. Ryson had now listened long enough to this pack to know they were not hunting. They had caught the scent of a danger and were trying to frighten it away.

“Probably the rogue,” Ryson whispered to himself, “or maybe even Lief, but whatever it is, they want it out of here.”

Quickly gauging the tracks on the ground and considering what was most probably ahead of him, Ryson took to the trees. He grabbed a low hanging branch and hoisted himself up into a box-elder. He jumped another two branches upward before moving along a thick limb to a neighboring cottonwood. He gauged the distance to the rakers cries and moved with a greater speed knowing he would not fall into one of their traps.

After but a few moments, the delver closed upon the clamor. He quickly spotted the river rogue that appeared particularly agitated over the noises of the tree rakers. Though visibly tense over the chaotic sounds, the rogue remained in a fixed position, slightly hunched over and using a fallen, rotten log that was lodged between two full grown white pines as cover. It showed no desire to retreat or to bolt for better cover. Instead, the rogue continued to peer to its left toward a thick grove of spruce trees.

Ryson followed the rogue’s gaze to the same spot. As he eyes fell upon the thick branches, he noticed the barely visible signs of slow, steady movement from within. Almost immediately, Ryson witnessed an arrow fly from out of the spruce trees and with deadly malice toward one of the rakers. The arrow stuck clean on the side of the creature’s head, and the dwarf-constructed metal arrowhead penetrated the raker’s skull with ease. Only half of the shaft remained visible after impact, the rest burrowed deep into the monster’s brain. The creature dropped to the ground with a dull thud. Death was instantaneous.

Ryson shook his head and then bounded through the trees towards Lief’s position in the spruce grove.

“Lief!” he called out.

The elf’s head popped out behind cover just as the screeching of the other rakers in the area ceased. The pack members that remained alive scurried off as fast at they could deeper into the cover of the woods.

As for the rogue, it appeared somewhat uncertain of its next move. It didn’t like the smell of the delver that now approached, nor did it have any desire to follow the remaining rakers into the woods. In the end, it appeared satisfied to remain behind the rotten log, and it simply crouched lower to the ground as it waited for any further signs of action.

In mere moments, the delver was in front of the elf as he extricated himself from the thick branches of the spruce.

“Ryson?” Lief asked, revealing more surprise than any other emotion. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been tracking you. I heard the noise of the rakers and then saw the arrow and realized I found you.”

The elf looked over toward the dead raker. “One less monster to worry about. These dwarf constructed arrowheads can break through rock, so they have no problem with the tough hides of tree rakers.”

“Or the hides of goblins, bloat spiders, and even a snow ogre,” Ryson added with a hint of displeasure.

Lief didn’t notice the tone, or he chose to ignore it. “That was a pleasant surprise—the ogre that is. Didn’t think I’d chance upon one of those so deep in the forest.”

Ryson found Lief’s rather upbeat response somewhat perplexing. “What are you doing out here?”

The elf raised an eyebrow as if the question was unnecessary and the answer obvious. “I told you exactly what I would be doing when I left you at Pinesway, and if you’ve been tracking me, you should be able to tell by the trails. After dispatching as many retreating goblins as I could find, I set my sights on the river rogue that setup a territory near Pinesway’s northwestern bridge. It was already highly alerted to much of the disturbance when I came upon the bridge. Once it smelled my arrival, it took off for the woods. He was obviously spooked by the goblin attack, perhaps also by your activity, and thus made haste to leave the area almost immediately. I have been tracking it since that time. He has proven to be a difficult quarry. He left his territory in quite a hurry and has showed no great desire to return quickly. At least on two different occasions, though, he did try to double back to Pinesway. I had cut him off and almost had him, but both times the blasted wind changed and he caught either sight or scent of me and fled further into the forest.”

Lief pointed the top of his bow at the creature as he continued. “He’s over there now, much more used to my scent at this time. He’s probably wondering about you, though. Still I don’t think he wants to leave my vicinity too soon as I’ve been providing him with several easy meals lately. I’m actually quite happy it got away. It seems to have given up on returning to its river bridge by Pinesway. Instead it has staked out a rather large territory here in the woods. There is a small stream off to the west where it started digging out a new den. There’s not a lot of water for it, but the forest has enough snow on the ground here for it to make due. I’ve been using him to track goblins and other such creatures. The rogue stalks when it senses prey nearby but does not strike. It leaves that to me now, almost as if it knows I will take care of the killing for it.”

Ryson looked over to the rogue. He felt sadness for the creature, but said nothing.

“You were tracking me I assume for a purpose,” Lief stated. “May I ask what it is you want of me?”

“Mostly, I wanted to warn you,” Ryson acknowledged.

“Warn me?”

“Yes, when we