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

Stunned silence. Every dwarf in the chamber understood the depth of what they now faced; a box of nightmares had been opened. The shadow tree was the weapon of pure dread, a curse of excruciating painful death. Shadow tree seeds had been used only once before, during the last great war between the elves and dwarves. The magically altered trees devoured an entire city before the dwarves sealed the atrocities in a sarcophagus of rock. They had not been used again, but their legacy remained etched in dwarf history.

The very thought of facing this horror sapped resolve even as it instilled gut-wrenching panic. Trepidation bounded full enough to wash away the fatigue of every calamity already faced that day, but the overwhelming terror slowed the dwarves’ initial reaction. Palace guards waited for orders, but there was no one to give them. Ministers and advisors looked about in lost confusion. It was never their lot to make final decisions, only to give opinions. There was only one in the room with the true authority of rule, but if Jon understood the harsh dilemma Dunop now faced, it only served to drag him further into his lifeless trance.

With no other alternative, advisors mumbled their only thoughts as if hoping to draw a group consensus.

“We should send out guards to gather up the seeds quickly, before they start to grow,” one offered. “We can bring them to the surface, make them whither in the daylight.”

“It’s too late,” the warning sentry advised. “The seeds are already starting to grow. The raiding goblins took many of our light gems. Most of the city is almost completely dark. As soon as the seeds hit the ground they are shooting up into saplings. They are not big enough to attack us yet, but they will be before we can stop them.”

“How many seeds were dropped?” an advisor asked with halting breaths.

“Hundreds. Who knows?”

“We should evacuate immediately, seal off every tunnel as we leave.”

Another advisor bore a painful truth. “We can’t leave. We have no where to go. No neighboring city will have us. The separatist revolt, remember?”

A collective groan echoed through the chamber.

Fear bore desperate options. “Then we must flee to the surface.” But these words held little resolution. Life above ground amounted to near torture.

Again, silence prevailed.

One guard finally offered a defeated suggestion. “We can attempt to burn the trees. It is our only chance.”

Lief barged into the room revealing truths already known to the dwarves. “You can’t burn the trees. Flames won’t hurt them once they begin to grow. You can only stop them with sunlight.”

Many of the dwarves stared angrily at the elf. They immediately connected him with the seeds. Like jackals, they sneered.

“He is responsible,” one accused. “His camp must have dropped the seeds upon us.”

Without Dzeb’s presence, the dwarf guards now moved without hesitation upon the elf. They turned their fear into anger and focused it upon their target. They were slow and plodding but they outnumbered Lief by a wide margin. They ultimately surrounded him and took hold of his limbs. They threatened to pull him apart in a fit of anger.

Ryson roared above the din. “Take your hands off him!”

The dwarves paused but did not release the elf.

The delver persisted. “I have the means to save you, but only when you let him go.”

Still, the dwarves retained their grip. “What can you do?” one barked.

Ryson pointed his sword at the heart of the questioning dwarf. “My sword magnifies daylight. I can use it to burn the trees, or I can use it to fight you and free my friend. Which will you have?”

A group of dwarves moved toward the delver. The sword might indeed hold their salvation, and they considered taking it for their own.

Ryson leapt clear in a blur of motion that dazzled the dwarves. “Don’t be fools. You can’t move quick enough to save your whole city. I can, but I won’t until you let him go.”

“You will promise to destroy the trees?”

“I’ll promise to try. And I’ll need his help as well. He’s the only other one here fast enough to help scout the city.”

The dwarves held little in the way of options. Reluctantly, they released the elf, though most did so with a shove.

Lief boiled over. “I did not drop the seeds on your stubborn heads, you damned moles. I came here to stop it, came here to end the war before it came to this.”

Ryson called out sternly. “Lief! Not now. I need your help.”

Lief glared at the surrounding dwarves.

Again, the delver pressed the urgent need upon the elf. “There’s no time for that. We have to work while the sun’s still up. As long as light comes through the tunnels, we have a chance. Once night falls, it’ll be all over.”

Lief straightened, pushed the thought of the dwarves’ aggressiveness from his mind. “What is it you suggest?”

Ryson spoke quickly. “Pinpoint each seed, each growing tree. I can use the beam of light from the sword’s tip to disintegrate them. It’s the only chance.”

Lief nodded. “You will have to move quickly.”

“I plan to, but I’ll still need help. I’m going to move north first, then come back and take the east, then the south. I want you to go east first, make a preliminary scout. Find where the seeds were dropped. They had to come from air holes or tunnels from above. Look for them. Find them and mark them for me so I can see them from a distance, a signal fire is your best bet. The more searching you do, the less I have to.” Ryson then turned to the dwarves. “You had a good idea before. Pick up the seeds that haven’t grown or the saplings that are still small enough to handle. Get them topside. The more you can help the better. And get all the light gems you can back in place. We need every little bit of sunlight we can get.”

Ryson didn’t wait for an acknowledgment, he simply dashed off down the hall. The beacon of his sword flashed through the corridors like a spear of lightning. Once beyond the palace doors, the delver turned north. He didn’t need the sun overhead to tell him east from west. He didn’t need landmarks as a reference. He simply knew which way to turn. He rushed up the streets like an unbridled horse. His head swerved on his neck, constantly searching for signs of the trees. He spotted the first cluster almost immediately.

“Godson!” The sight chilled him, revived his memories of Sanctum’s bowels. Shadow trees - the name was perfect in description. Silhouettes of dead gnarled trees, black as tar and as lifeless as ashes, thirsted for life in the darkness of an alleyway. The cluster blanketed the width of the street. They spread like oozing sludge. They grew before his eyes. Small shoots of new branches groped for the darkness. He shivered. Thankfully, none had yet reached full size. The tallest was not yet above his own height, but even at this stunted dimension, they stood like breeders of corruption.

He forced himself to step up to this orchard of disease. Reluctance gripped him, slowed his every step. He finally stopped within an arm’s length of the closest tree.

“Please let this work,” he prayed.

He pointed the very tip of the sword toward the closest sapling. The branches were already retracting from the sword’s glow. When the tightly wound beam from the