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

Ryson took little time in leaving Connel and racing directly to the site of the elf camp in Dark Spruce. He bypassed Burbon completely, even as the thought of his home gnawed at him. He wanted to know what was happening there, wanted to know if the dwarves had attacked again. He realized quickly, however, that such knowledge would not help him. He needed to get to Dunop. That was now the simple crux of his plan. Attempting to learn the fate of his new home was now nothing more than a distraction.

Like lightning cutting across a wide open sky, he bolted across the farmlands that divided Connel from Dark Spruce. He raced through the thick forest and towards the heart of the elf camp. He slowed only for an instant, to be recognized by the perimeter of elf guards. He did not wait for their invitation, though; he simply called out his name and exploded back to full speed.

The guards may not have appreciated the delver’s boldness, but they did nothing to hinder him. They only stopped to wonder if they even could. The delver was a blur of motion. Could they mark him with an arrow, could they even target him? It was unlikely. Beyond this momentary diversion, they cast their attention back to the brush beyond their camp, or to the ground beneath them.

Ryson darted through the camp. Twisting and turning, covering the breadth of the camp, his head spun about searching for signs of Petiole or Lief. He found Lief first, alone and muttering to himself.

Ryson drew to a halt near the grumbling elf.

“I’m back,” the delver greeted.

Lief looked upon the delver with obvious surprise and much dismay. “I heard you call in. Where’s the cliff behemoth?”

“He would not come,” Ryson responded plainly.

Lief blinked, as if not wanting to accept this answer.

Ryson actually felt the exasperation. “I’m sorry. I tried.”

The elf only cursed. “Fire upon all of this. Why not?”

“He needed a sign.”

“A sign?”

“Something from Godson,” Ryson stated, seemingly with only slight annoyance. He continued as if Dzeb’s decision was now immaterial. “He wanted his doubts washed away, or something like that. He didn’t believe he should interfere. He kept talking about everything being Godson’s will, one way or the other. I don’t know. It’s hard to argue with a cliff behemoth. They use their faith as a reason. How do you fight that? Anyway, he’s not coming.”

“That’s not what I needed to hear,” Lief posed. He rubbed his forehead as his eyes bore into the ground.

Seeing such agitation, Ryson turned to other matters, his own questions over equally important events. “What’s been happening here? Did you talk to Petiole?”

“Yes,” Lief replied with a heavy weariness as he lifted his head and now looked to the sky. His face revealed a sense of desperation as if he was asking the heavens why he was so damned. He spoke with a tone near resentment. “I convinced Petiole to hold off using the seeds. He gave us five days. He agreed based on my insistence that you would bring a cliff behemoth to stop this war. This will not go over well.”

Ryson was apologetic. “I tried. I just couldn’t convince him.”

Again, Lief shook his head. “I do not blame you. I’m just tired of this.”

Ryson tried to sound hopeful. “I have a new plan.”

The statement did little to soften the elf. “It was hard to believe in your first plan.”

Ryson kicked at the ground. He struggled with how to explain his intentions. He realized there was no way to make his idea sound sane, let alone reasonable. He unveiled it bluntly. “I’m still going into Dunop. I’m just going in without Dzeb. I’m going to give my sword to Yave. I hope it will show her how Tun really died, how it wasn’t the fault of the algors.”

Lief simply stared at the delver. He said nothing, his expression revealed nothing.

Ryson spoke faster. “I know it sounds like suicide, but it is a chance. I don’t understand this sword. Your people made it, used their own magic to enchant it. It’s shown the power to reveal the way things are. It’s worked before. It showed me how to defeat Ingar. It also helped convince Tun to help us destroy his sphere. If it can do that, I think it can help convince Yave to stop before she does more damage. If she realizes that Tun’s death was an accident, she’ll stop these attacks. She can make amends with the algors. We might still get out of this.”

Lief still said nothing.

Ryson heaved a heavy sigh. “You think it’s a ridiculous idea. I knew you would. It’s just …”

Lief did not let him continue. “It may work.”

Ryson’s eyes widened. “You think so?”

“It is as you said, the sword has helped us before. If it had the power to break through Tun’s stubbornness, perhaps it can break Yave’s madness. It is as good a plan as bringing Dzeb to her.”

Ryson smiled. “I thought so, too. Actually, it was Matthew’s idea. After Dzeb turned me down, I went to Connel. I didn’t have any other ideas. I thought Matthew might come with me. I was hoping we could all be together again… you, Holli, Matthew, and me. We might be able to at least stop Petiole from using the seeds. Unfortunately, the dwarves had attacked Connel. He was hurt.”

Lief revealed genuine concern elves normally don’t show toward humans. “Not badly I hope?”

“I’m afraid very badly, but he’s sure he’ll survive and so am I.”

“At least that is something. What of the attack? The city fared poorly?”

“Very. The dwarves did damage beyond what I could explain. The city’s basically in ruins. If anyone from Burbon thought Connel might lend help, they can forget it now. It’ll take a long time for Connel to recover from this. They barely have the resources to help themselves, let alone someone else.”

News of Matthew’s injury and the damage to Connel did little to lift Lief’s spirits. His mood decayed as he reflected upon the heart of the problem. “Who would have thought it would have led to this? Yave and her separatist followers. The damn fools. It is so senseless. To attack a city, to wreak such havoc, all out of revenge. What will satisfy her?”

“I don’t know, but it’s even more reason why I have to try and stop her. If the dwarves attack Burbon like they attacked Connel, no one will survive.”

Lief straightened at Ryson’s lack of faith in Burbon’s protectors. “Do not give up so easily on what others can do. Give the credit that is due to your captain and to Holli,” Lief admonished.

Ryson took hold of Lief’s conviction as a sign of hope for Burbon’s well-being. “Have you heard anything? I didn’t stop on the way here. I didn’t think I wanted to know.”

“We have scouts keeping an eye on Burbon from the trees. We need to know the dwarves’ strength. As of yet, there have been no further attacks.”

Ryson’s eyes lit up. It seemed as if a block of weight fell free from his shoulders. “Then everyone’s safe?”

“For now, but we must make yet another critical decision. Do you really wish to enter Dunop? I agree the Sword of Decree may hold the way out of this war, but it is not without risk. I know you are adverse to the shadow trees, but the option still remains. Petiole will gladly drop them now. Any threat to you or Burbon would vanish nearly instantly. You must also consider another point. If you fail, if Yave does not grasp the sword and continues her plans of war, the seeds will be released anyway. If you are captured, you will face the same fate as the dwarves. Are you willing to take this risk?”

Ryson heaved a heavy breath. “I don’t see as if I have a choice.”

Lief frowned. “Do not be so dramatic, delver. There is a choice, and it’s yours to make.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I do have a choice. I have to try to stop this. That’s what I meant to say.”

“I understand and I agree with you. I will accompany you to Dunop.”

Lief waited. He eyed Ryson with defiance.

The delver responded with surprise.

“I’m very happy to hear that. I don’t want to go alone. I’m sure you expected me to decline, but I won’t. I’m glad you want to come with me.”

“You will not argue the point?”

“No. I don’t know where the entrance to Dunop is. I have no experience with dwarf cities. There is no advantage to me going alone. And I’ll be glad to have the company”

“I’m glad you admit to this.” The elf was about to say more, but Lief paused. Again, time was running short. He exhaled heavily as he cast a glance about the camp. He put a hand to his chin as he considered the next step, a burdensome one.

The elf’s consternation was not lost upon the perceptive delver. “What’s wrong?”

“We might face a more difficult problem than the dwarves right now. You remember I said Petiole gave us five days? That was on the condition you would bring a cliff behemoth to speak to the dwarves. I have no idea what he’ll say about this new plan. He might reverse his decision.”

“We have to convince him not to,” Ryson cited.

“We can try.” There was more than a hint of pessimism in the elf’s tone. “Follow me.”

The delver obeyed. He moved alongside the elf. As they moved further away from the heart of the camp, he spotted Petiole standing alone at the outskirts of the camp.

“Why is he out here?” Ryson quipped.

“He is afraid,” Lief said with near shame. “He wishes to be as close to the perimeter of guards as possible.”

“What’s he afraid of? The dwarves?”

“Me,” Lief said succinctly

The reply was blunt and Ryson, though questions burned his mind, did not press for details. He knew there was truth to Lief’s words as he saw Petiole’s reaction upon their approach. The elder fidgeted, stepped back slightly and finally motioned for a guard. Two elves swung down from the trees above him and took defensive positions by his side.

The sequence amazed the delver. The guards treated Lief as a genuine threat. They drew long daggers as they took two small steps forward. They left an opening between them, a space for Lief to see the face of the elder, but they made it clear he was not to pass beyond them. There would be a buffer and they would close off the path if Lief tried to move beyond