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

The noise of his own movements was hidden by the clamorous shuffling of those he hoped to evade. He kneeled as quiet and as motionless as a wary rabbit. His hand found the hilt of the Sword of Decree.

A half-dozen goblins slowly moved into his sight, they were not alone. A single serp walked with them. The sight angered Ryson.

Serps were the malevolent brains behind the goblin raids. Tactical and strategic specialists, they cared little for actual combat. They used the easily manipulated goblins to carry out their blood plans.

According to the legends, serps were an offshoot of the algor race, a tribe which had dabbled in the dark recesses of the magical energy. They wished to break their struggle between individualistic desires and group belonging that made the algors such an unpredictable breed. They had succeeded in that province but left themselves reliant upon the magic. When the magic was swallowed by Ingar’s sphere, their presence faded as well. Now, just like the magic, they were back.

Serps displayed greater characteristics of a snake than the algors, especially about the head and neck. They had arms and legs, and walked upright, but the serps were shorter than the algors, closer in fact, to the stature of a goblin. Serps also had tails, long thin extensions of their back bones that slithered behind them as they walked.

Ryson now knew why the shag didn’t attack. Serps were the most cunning of the dark creatures. It was believed they could actually hypnotize the less intelligent monsters. The legends included stories of packs of shags and river rogues banding together to attack in force. Such behavior among territorial creatures and natural rivals would be impossible without the driving force of a sorcerer’s magic or the depraved treachery of a serp’s tongue.

Ryson leapt to his feet. The sudden movement caught the goblins off guard. They could not load and fire their crossbows fast enough. The delver drew his sword and the magical blade magnified the light all around them.

Shocked and bewildered, stunned by the glowing blade, the goblins scattered. The six ran off in different direction. They spat as they grumbled words unintelligible to all but their own kind.

The delver knew the battle was not over. He had seen this maneuver before. Goblins would appear to flee in opposing directions only to regroup with crossbows ready. They would form a perimeter around the enemy within range of their arrows. Anyone that stood and watched, thinking the goblins defeated, would be caught in the center of a multi-pointed crossfire.

Ryson did not remain still. He took only a moment to issue a notice to the serp that recoiled in front of him.

“I’ll be back. I’m not finished with you.”

With his last word echoing behind him, he sprinted off to the east. He sheathed his sword as he ran so as not to carry a beacon for the other goblins to take aim. A blur through the grass, he easily caught the first goblin that struggled through the tall thicket. He relieved the snarling creature of its crossbow and its short sword. Since he did not need another goblin prisoner, he had caught many in the past season, he simply turned away from the spitting, hissing creature. He tossed the crossbow and the sword far off into the grass as he pressed upon the next closest goblin. Again, he disarmed the creature only to ignore it. He was forced to do this only once more as the final three realized their plight and ran off out of range.

With the goblin threat removed, Ryson deftly moved back to the original spot of confrontation. Though he had no desire to capture a goblin, the serp was another matter. He had not yet gained a serp prisoner, and it would do him well to earn one now. Unfortunately, the serp was gone.

Ryson felt no distress, for he knew the creature was not far off. Serps were not known for their physical prowess. While they were mentally superior to almost every other dark creature, they could do little in the way of fighting, or even simply running away.

Almost instantly, he spotted the retreating tracks of the serp. His eyes followed the path to a nearby patch of tall grass. He nearly laughed at the futile attempt to hide or perhaps even ambush. Ryson bent down and picked up a small rock. He threw it gracefully at the tall brush. The result was not as he expected.

One of the largest shags he had ever seen rose from the thicket and it showed an eagerness to engage the delver. It stood over twice Ryson’s own height and carried the bulk of an ox. It snarled as its hands flexed with a desire to crush the delver’s skull.

Ryson was more than surprised, he was confused. How could he have missed the presence of such a monster? The question, however, answered itself as Ryson noticed thick layers of grass clinging to the matted fur. In places, the monster looked more like a walking pile of hill grass than a shag. Beyond that, he could almost smell the lingering magic that seemed to surround the beast. The serp’s sorcery had helped camouflage the shag from both Ryson’s eyes and nose. The delver made a mental note to be more careful for such tricks in the future, but for now, the shag was closer than Ryson felt comfortable. It roared in anger. Behind it, Ryson could hear the snicker of the serp.

Again, the delver found anger. This time, unfortunately, he could do nothing. He was no match for a shag, especially one of this size. The hope of capturing the serp faded with another roar from the shag’s drooling mouth. Ryson grimaced, but would not accept total defeat. If a serp was out scouting the hills around Burbon, it was obviously interested in a raid. He decided to put a damper on such plans as he yelled a warning before retreating.

“I know why you’re here, serp. This shag might protect you from me, but it won’t help you attack Burbon. I’ll have the guard doubled, and I’ll be watching for any signs of goblin movements. You won’t get close to Burbon’s wall, let alone past it.”

It sounded an empty threat as Ryson backpedaled away from the slowly encroaching shag, but he knew it would more than suffice. The serp would certainly call off any plans of an immediate raid. They didn’t like being outmaneuvered, and they didn’t like losing their pawns because they had forfeited the element of surprise. Since Burbon would now be tipped off to a possible strike, the serp would simply have to redesign its plans.

Ryson could not see the serp for it remained hidden behind the shag, but he knew it had heard him. With that, he turned his back on the monster, and retreated in a blur.

After putting a good distance between him and the shag, the delver pulled to a halt as he reached a lonely winding road which cut through these hills. The path wasn’t used much anymore, not by normal citizens, not while shags and goblins waited in the surrounding area. It existed now only for patrols on horseback.

Ryson stood at the road’s center, away from the tall grass which crept up to its sides. He first checked all about him for immediate threats. He found none.

Feeling secure, he placed his concentration on what the serp and goblins might have been after. To the northeast, his keen eyesight picked up a trace outline of the newly constructed wall which surrounded Burbon. He was now thankful it was built so fast. He looked to the gate towers which rose higher than the hills. He gauged the distance from where he stood to the southern tower platform, and then factored in the last position of the serp and the goblins.

“They were probably checking for blind spots,” he noted to himself.

His eyes scanned the hills that rolled directly south of Burbon. He paced about as his focus fell upon a ridge that might offer what the serp desired.

“They’d be able to get awfully close if they approached from that angle. We’ll have to build another tower.”

The need for more construction forced him to consider the amount of work already completed since he had moved to Burbon; a fortress wall and five towers. Now they would need a sixth. He knew the people wouldn’t complain. They accepted, even invited, the rigid requirements that would keep them safe. Burbon was one of the last outposts before Dark Spruce Forest, and nothing separated it from the wilderness which seemed to generate the existence of so many threats. If another tower was needed, what else could they do?

He thought of the previous town he called home, Connel, and how different it was from Burbon. Most of it was simply due to size. Connel probably housed thirty times the amount of people as Burbon, and it included farmland that stretched out beyond the safety of walls or towers. Connel didn’t even bother with defensive construction. They simply forged an army. Platoons would protect the rims of the farmlands as delvers would scout the perimeter on an ongoing basis. Hundreds of men stood armed and ready at any one moment within the city to repel any goblin raid.

Such a thing was just not possible for Burbon, there were too few people. They had to make the most of their small force of guards. That’s why they all accepted the new wall and the towers, and it was why they accepted him, the only delver to live in their midst. They needed him more than Connel needed him. His explorations gave them warning, probably saved them from being overrun completely. There were just simply too many breeding grounds nearby for anyone in Burbon to dismiss the need for scouts. The Fuge River, the hills, especially the forest; all held danger.

The delver took off for Burbon’s main gate. He paused only at the entrance to warn the guards of the serp’s presence in the field. They tensed at the warning, but he bid them to be at ease. He assured them the serp wouldn’t attack now. It was too early in the day and the serp had been uncovered. Still, he would pass the news to Sy, the captain of the guard, before night fall.

First, he wished to see Linda, the true reason he now made Burbon his home. He went immediately to the Borderline Inn. He expected to find her behind the bar, but he found only her substitute who said Linda had left to find him.

A twinge of anxiety took a nibble at the delver. She never went looking for him at midday, when he was normally out on patrol. She knew he would be impossible to find. If she needed to see him, it must have been for something of great importance. His curiosity pressed upon his thoughts. He left for his house, thinking she would try there after she found he was not with Sy.

He moved quickly up to the small cottage door, but he paused before entering. His ears picked up a conversation. Low tones. Seriousness. His vast memory allowed him to recognize the second voice immediately. He threw open the door with unbridled enthusiasm. He saw Linda sitting across from more than just an old friend. The guest looked just the same as when Ryson left him on Sanctum’s peak.

“Lief!” the delver nearly shouted. “Lief Woodson.”

With a huge smile, Ryson nearly leapt toward his guest. He wanted to say so much, he couldn’t get any words out of his mouth. He took Lief’s hand with a joyous shake.

Linda stood up to meet her fianc�. She took his free hand and quickly explained.

“He came to the