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

the rocks, scratches which indicated their movements as clearly as if they tied balloons to their path.

Ryson faced the simple truth that anyone, even the most novice tracker, could follow them while staying out of sight. If he hoped to force the pursuer out into the open, he would have to put an end to such markings.

Hiding such a trail would not be impossible, but he would have to have the assistance of the algors. They would have to walk carefully, upon the heels of their feet with their toes upward. He wondered if they would acquiesce to such a request, and if so, how much it would slow their progress. As he contemplated their willingness to agree to such a demand, he considered if they even cared about what dangers they faced.

The algors, with their small cactus skin sacks draped over their shoulders, paid little mind to the backward glances of both the delver and the elf. They walked onward at the direction of both Ryson and Holli with their faces and eyes forward, oblivious to everything behind them.

Unable to make a firm decision and desiring greater information, the delver solicited advice. Ryson caught Holli’s attention as she made yet another backwards glance over her shoulder. He pointed with his thumb off into the distance behind them and nodded his head.

Holli returned the nod.

“I want to talk with you,” Ryson whispered. He then heaved a heavy breath and called for the attention of the algors.

The algors stopped and turned about. They tilted their heads as the delver walked within whispering distance.

“Keep your attention on me,” the delver said softly but with a hard edge. “And don’t show any concern.” Actually, he didn’t know if the algors could reveal anything other than confusion. Their expressions always seemed the same, but he remembered how they walked about in a jumbled mass when they debated some question. For now, he wanted them to stay put. “I want you to act as if I’ve asked you to take a short break for rest and food. I want you to take a seat over there, on that small group of rocks. Take some food from your bags. Keep your slings handy, but out of sight. Something is following us. I don’t know what it is …”

Before he could continue, the algors shuffled off casually to the rocks as Ryson directed. They gathered about as if nothing at all was wrong and appeared to aimlessly remove food from their bags. Roughly half of them, however, draped their slings over the sides of their pouches. Those that did not pull out their slings discreetly kicked and nudged fist-sized rocks within reach.

Ryson marveled at the algors actions. They did not require long explanations. They followed his instructions implicitly, and they showed not the slightest sign of panic. If the delver himself was watching from a distance, he would never have believed the algors were informed of any danger.

More than satisfied with these results, he motioned for Holli to follow him over to a small tree. He picked a small nut from a lower branch and broke it open. He offered it to the elf as he picked another. He spoke with his attention on the tree.

“I guess we both know we’re being followed. Have you seen anything?”

Holli spoke coolly, as if a well trained subordinate making a report to an officer.

“Yes, it fell into sight only once. It was crouched down and appeared like only another boulder, but I make mental notes of the positions of all large rocks to gauge the distance we travel. We passed no such boulder. I turned my head and allowed sufficient time for it to move. When I checked again, the boulder was gone. I have not seen it since. I can not tell you with any great accuracy where it is right now or if it continues to follow us.”

“It’s still following us,” Ryson assured. “What do you think it is?”

“I can only believe it is a mountain shag. It was too far away for me to see any detail, but based on its crouch and the space it filled, its overall height would exceed two average elves.”

“That big? Could it be anything else?”

“It could be anything. With the magic as it is, it could be another mutation. But I sincerely believe that it is a mountain shag.”

“Well, I put great trust in your assumptions.” The mention of a mountain shag brought little solace to the delver. While it revealed what followed them, it did little to tell him more. He dug into his own memory of the legends, but found little to draw upon. He needed to know more about what true hazards the shag presented, and he pressed the elf for more information. “Besides being tall what else can you tell me about it?”

“It is strong, but only marginally quick. While it has speed, I doubt it could match yours or mine. We can outrun it if necessary.”

“Even with the algors?”

Holli shook her head. “Doubtful.”

“Then, that’s not an option. What else?”

“It is heavy. It can climb rocks like a mountain goat, but it needs solid ground to support its weight. If we make it to the forest, even with the algors, we can escape. It would not be able to climb or move through the trees as we would. It would eventually lose our trail as it blunders through the forest, forced to break the branches which block its path. Shags are, however, somewhat intelligent. I am sure it knows the forest looms ahead of us. If it wishes to attack, it will do so before it loses the advantage of the terrain. It will probably wait until we reach the taller hills and attack from above. It will then use its weight and strength to drop down on us and take out as many as possible. If we try and beat it to the higher ground, it will trap us by circling the foot of any hill we choose to climb. It will then simply outwait us.”

Realizing that outrunning the shag would be futile, Ryson turned over the option of a forward attack. “The algors have their slings ready, and you have your bow. If I lure it into the open, you can send a barrage upon it. Maybe it will be enough to scare it away. Do you think we can overpower it with our weapons?”

While Holli’s face remained expressionless, her tone revealed her skepticism. “The slings will do little. Blunt weapons, even when projected with a sling will do little to hurt a mountain shag. The matted hair and thick skin give it protection. The best weapon against it is the bow with long tipped arrows. We have but one bow and the shag has a high tolerance to pain. I can aim for the eyes, but I don’t know if that will stop it. The first may only anger it, and that is as risky as trying to outrun it.”

“What about your sword?”

“A sword can be effective, but it’s a dangerous ploy. If you’re close enough to use the blade of a sword, you’re within the grasp of its long arms.”

Ryson turned his head and scanned the entire horizon. He also took in a quick glimpse of the sky. It remained clear with no signs of storms. The temperature was still very warm, attributable to the southerly winds which blew off of the desert.

Ryson eyed the algors. “I didn’t tell them what was following us. Do you think they know?”

“They have showed no sign of alarm.”

“Do algors even know what a mountain shag is?” Ryson wondered openly.

“Who is to say for sure, but I would guess so. They have already said that they share no secrets from one another, that what one knows they all know. I don’t know how much knowledge they retain of the legends, but they knew of Sanctum and the sphere.”

“I agree,” Ryson affirmed as he removed his gaze from the algors. He hoped not to alarm them further, though they sat and ate as if it were an ordinary meal, as if they were still within the reaches of their desert home.

Ryson began picking once more at the branches for scattered nuts. He offered a handful to the elf. “What about the algors in a hand to hand fight against a shag? They seem to have sharp claws. And there are ten of them. If they group together, they could be a dangerous weapon themselves.”

“I have heard ancient stories of mountain shags,” Holli began with a distressing tone. “Powered in some way by the magic which filled the air, a single shag attacked entire elf camps, dodging arrows and carrying away as many as a half dozen at a time. These tales make me believe that the shag is not concerned with our numbers. As for the algors combat abilities, I can not say. They carry a sling. That makes me believe they prefer fighting at a distance. I’m sure they would use their claws if that were their last option, but I wouldn’t count on their effectiveness.”

Ryson put a hand to his chin as he considered their predicament with growing dismay. “Then, we’re really not facing a very positive situation here. If this thing wants us, it’s going to take us in the hills ahead, and unless we get lucky, we don’t have much else to do about it. We have to proceed, but we’d simply be walking right where it wants us. And I don’t want to hang around here for night to fall.”

“No, that would be disastrous,” Holli emphasized.

“What are our true options?”

Holli did not hesitate in replying. She had obviously given the matter much thought as they traveled and was prepared with an answer.

“We have three. If it is still behind us as you say, we can try to outrun it to the forest. With a quick pace, there is a chance we might keep ahead of it and avoid an ambush in the taller hills.”

“How fast do you think the algors can move over this type of ground?” Ryson questioned with more than a hint of doubt in his lowered voice.

“Not fast, but if we catch the shag off guard, it might be fast enough.”

Ryson pictured the group charging off in hopes of making a mad dash to the trees. He could imagine the shag would respond to such a tactic by increasing its own pace. The shag would have to realize that they were aware of its presence. Such a revelation would perhaps only lead to an immediate engagement. The group would probably be caught in a state of confusion and unprepared to handle the attack. “That’s too big a chance. What’s option number two?”

“Change our direction to the north and avoid the tall hills all together. Stay on the flat level rock as we are on now and head for the Fuge River. Shags don’t like the water.

“Why not?” Ryson asked quickly.

“They are natural enemies of the river rogues.”

The mention of yet another mythical monster offered little if any consolation. “Won’t that mean we might be trading in one attacker for another?! I’ve heard about these river rogues. I don’t want to run into one of those, either. We might also not reach the river by night fall. Do you really want to be caught out here not knowing if we’re going to be trapped between our friend back there and a river rogue ahead of us?”

“No,” Holli replied simply. “But it is a better alternative then simply continuing forward. I believe the shag will eventually attack once we reach the tall hills. At least if we head to the river, there is