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

There was no sun, but there was light, and that held the answer.

The light gems and mirrors brought sunlight through the air holes and tunnels. Every carving of rock reflected the light. To the dwarves, it was viewed as the one resource which could not be wasted. Sun beams glistened through every passage. They sparkled off jewels and polished rock. Dim as it was, it brought life to this underground city. It was not overwhelming, certainly not like noon time upon the surface, more like just before twilight. This allowed for the growth of algae in the rivers and sparse plants along the roadsides.

His observations sparked his delver instincts. As he walked behind the dwarf escort, his spirit pulled at him to investigate more of this city. It urged him to take off down one of the mysterious corridors or to the center of a large cavern. He wished to inspect the interiors of the shops and homes or to follow the run of the river. He bubbled with enthusiasm like a child in an amusement park. This was not just a cave; this was a place of magic, not the kind which allowed spells and enchantments, but the magic of something new and nearly inconceivable.

Thoughts of exploration, however, quickly slipped away as the appearance of heavily armed dwarves became more common. As they proceeded, they passed more check points. The reason soon became obvious. Dunop’s Royal Palace appeared at the center of the city in a large expanse of a cavern.

The structure emanated more strength than beauty. It overwhelmed the space with a sense of power that typified the dwarf race. The palace appeared part of the cave, as if stalagmites and stalactites grew together over untold cycles to form this dominant structure. The obvious brilliance in design, however, quickly removed any thought that this might be a simple haphazard coincidence. The rock was sculpted with perfect precision. From the steps of the front entrance to the highest ramparts, the very lines of construction defied weakness.

Immediately, upon his very first glance, Ryson could sense the intentions of the architects. From the start, before the first rock was placed at its foundation, the palace was viewed as a whole. Each rock, each piece of granite was to be molded together until this palace was born into a single entity. The edifice would boast of strength. Vulnerability would not be permitted.

The delver wished to stop, to gaze at the stark power and drink in the image. Strangely, the dwarf escort allowed him to pause.

The warrior slowly turned. She wore a grin, but it held pride to the degree of venom. Her pasty white, rugged flesh wrinkled about the curl of her lip.

“View the last place you will ever see, delver. Know the true power of my race. Know that there is nothing we can’t do.”

The delver ignored her. Lief did not.

“Climb a tree,” the elf said sarcastically.

Rage took the place of pride in the dwarf. She moved upon Lief. Two dwarf guards in the rear fumbled with uncertainty.

The elf straightened with defiance. His own eyes blazed with equal fury. He held no weapon, but he would not cower before this separatist. Only the delver’s speed prevented his murder.

Ryson stepped between them. He did not touch the dwarf or draw his own weapon. He simply blocked her path, kept her from getting within arm’s reach of the elf.

The dwarf growled. Her eyes remained fixed past the delver and upon the elf. She tried to sidestep Ryson. She could no sooner outrun the wind. Her frustration billowed. She reared back with her axe, determined to cut her way to the elf, if necessary.

“Enough!”

The warrior froze as every other dwarf guard came to immediate attention at the arrival of another dwarf, a dwarf whose command was exceeded only by that of Yave herself. The War Com stepped down the palace steps toward the party. He mumbled an order to the warrior. She did not attempt to question, but she offered a glare toward Lief as she stepped away. Strog eyed the two uninvited guests with mistrust. He said nothing. He simply stood in front of them and stared.

Ryson was not in the mood for another contest of wills. He knew what Strog intended, stand there rigid until one gave up and spoke first. He decided to voice his intentions without delay. He wasn’t giving in to the War Com, he just didn’t intend on playing this ridiculous game.

“I didn’t come here to stand around and see who blinks first. I’ve already surrendered myself. I’m sure the queen will want to know this.”

The War Com did not respond. He continued to stare silently as if he would play the game regardless.

The confrontation had gained the attention of many dwarves. Many stood watching from a distance. Ryson spoke up, loud enough for all of them to hear. “My name is Ryson Acumen. I was with Jon and Tun in Sanctum.”

Strog closed his eyes, trying to block out the reaction. He couldn’t. He heard the murmurs of the crowd. Word of this would spread quickly.

“Follow me,” he said with disgust. He turned to move, but stopped suddenly. He placed his fury on the warrior escort. “Why does he still wear his sword? Why was he not disarmed?”

“He wouldn’t allow it.”

“He wouldn’t allow it?” Strog cut her off. “Since when do prisoners dictate to us?”

Ryson interrupted. Again, he spoke loud enough for all around to hear. “The sword is not for you or anyone else. Only the queen. It was named the Sword of Decree by the elves that forged it. It is the sword that convinced Tun to help destroy the sphere. Don’t you think you should bring us, and it, to her now?”

Strog folded his hands together. His first response was to dismiss the female warrior. He would not even let her voice her request to have the honor of executing the delver. He ordered the other escorts to return to the tunnels and motioned for palace guards to join him. Finally, he turned to Ryson.

“I will take you to the queen. Not because you request it, because I desire it. If you attempt to draw your sword, I will have you killed on the spot.”

Strog did not wait for a response. He turned on his heels back towards the palace entrance and marched up the polished steps.

Ryson and Lief were soon surrounded by a cluster of dwarf warriors. They were urged forward down long corridors and placed first in a tiny room devoid of all furnishings. The queen would have to be summoned. She was not simply available for every prisoner that was marched through the palace.

After a brief wait, they were again ushered into the corridors, and finally brought into the throne room and put before the queen. Ryson saw the mix of emotions captured in her face and eyes. Cold hate. Blazing hot fury. He sensed the conflict within her. She wanted to lash out. She wanted to make them cower in her icy stare. And if she favored either the elf or the delver with her distaste, it was Ryson.

The delver treated her malice with equal measures of respect and indifference. He would not ignore her ire completely, would not speak with reverence as if greeting a friend, but he would not bend from his purpose. He knew she blamed him for the death of her son. The memory of Tun cast a shadow upon his soul. He would not stand there as if there were no loss. At the same time, he considered the losses to the algors in the Lacobian and to the humans in Connel, all because of her madness. It was her thirst for revenge which brought him here. It was his intention to end this dementia, an intention he was not sure was possible. He stood before her with patience and indignation, remorse and sympathy, uncertainty and determination.

He folded his hands before him, as if praying, and dropped his gaze to the floor. It was not his desire to lock upon a battle of wills with Yave. He would not invite further hostility. He waited to be recognized.

Lief, as with every other dwarf in the room other than Yave, swung his attention back and forth between the delver and the queen. The crux of this moment was pinpointed. There was little he could do. These two would now decide the fate of the dwarves in Dunop, the elves in Dark Spruce, and the humans in Burbon. The die was cast. He could only wait, and watch the result.

Yave cleared her throat. “You are the delver that brought my son to Sanctum?”

“I am,” Ryson responded without looking up.

“This elf was with you?”

“He was.”

“And you now surrender yourselves to me?”

“We do.”

“Why?” The word ended with a rattle in her throat, as if her fury was about to spew forth.

“We want to try and stop all of this. It’s not a secret why you attacked the algors. I don’t think it’s too difficult to figure out why you attacked Connel and Burbon. And the elf camp in Dark spruce. You’re trying to get those you think are responsible for Tun’s death.”

“Who ARE responsible for his death,” Yave corrected.

Ryson chose not to dispute her. “I was the one that helped convince Tun to go to Sanctum. I’m sure you blame me as much as the algors.”

Yave’s suspicion flowed over her repugnance for the two prisoners. She revealed her mistrust. “Is that all? No other reason? I was told you would not allow my dwarves to take your sword. Maybe you thought as a delver you would move quick enough to assassinate me.”

“I have no such intentions.”

“And I am simply to take your word for that?” Yave scoffed. “What am I supposed to believe? That you simply surrendered because you did not want to run? You are a delver and I am no fool. I know what you are capable of. You might elude us for seasons without end, but you surrender anyway. You think maybe I would be moved by this act? Did you think I might be impressed by what you might believe is courage? Or do you really wish to sacrifice yourself?”

“I do not wish to sacrifice anything.”

“But you came here to surrender to me?”

“I was hoping there might be a way we might satisfy you without need for further violence.”

“You think I will be satisfied with this?”

“I don’t know.”

Yave shook her head. “What is it you’re trying to tell me, delver?”

“I want this all to end. That’s all.”

Yave spat upon the rock floor. Such behavior actually surprised the delver. He recovered, however, before Yave’s gaze locked upon him once more.

Yave’s eyes narrowed. “Let me tell you what I think. I believe you are more concerned about other things. You did not come here to simply surrender. You came here to try and talk your way out of the justice which will be rendered upon you. You wish to try and save those you hold dear. I will not have it. No one saved my Tun. My son is dead. Do you have family in Connel, or in Burbon? Where?”

Ryson stiffened. He would not answer.

“I think you do. I guess I will have to see them all killed in each city. What do you think of that, delver?”

Ryson redirected the conversation. “Did you know that Tun was against destroying the sphere?”

The question temporarily stunned Yave. “What?”

“Tun did not want to enter Sanctum,” Ryson repeated. “He did not want the magic released.”

“I know that,” Yave snarled. “You tricked him.”

Ryson ignored her. “He wanted to seal the breach, keep