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

the time you promised. You broke your word, and you committed a crime.”

Petiole cringed. “I committed no crime!” The elder scrambled to find excuses. “I sought only the protection of my camp. You did not return. I had to think of the others.”

“You thought only of yourself!” Lief hissed. “And you are a criminal. The war was over! Yave was defeated, removed from power. The cliff behemoths saw to that. They declared there would be no further violence, but then the seeds fell. You dropped them after the battle was won!”

“I had no idea!” Petiole whined.

“You gave us five days!” Lief growled. “If you kept your word, you would have known.”

Petiole looked upon the crowd of elves, elves of his camp, elves that were supposed to follow his word. He saw doubt in their eyes. Lief was destroying his ability to lead - not just questioning his authority, but removing it. He fought back like a trapped animal with no way of escape.

“Do not tell me what my word was! Why would you need such time? How was I to know the cliff behemoths would intervene. The delver said they would not come. I was misinformed. I made decisions based solely on the safety of this camp.”

“Fire upon you!” Lief cursed. “You think only of yourself. And you spout lies. Don’t you think I know what has happened since I left? I have heard the news. The dwarf army was forced to retreat from Burbon. They suffered heavy casualties. There was no chance of an attack on our camp. You knew that. You dropped the seeds out of your own fear!”

The other elves considered the point. News had spread of the battle at Burbon. They all knew of the dwarf defeat. Petiole should have known as well. Why would he order the seeds dropped if he knew the dwarves suffered such great losses? More than one set of eyes fell harshly upon the elder.

Lief fed their anger, raised more questions. “Why would you even risk such a thing? Did you discuss the action with other elf camps? Did you even consider it?”

Petiole fought to defend his actions. “Why must I consult with other camps? We are the ones that faced the danger. Other camps, elf or not, should have no say in our personal matters.”

Lief could not hold his fury, and had no desire to do so. “You imbecile! Have you no brain?! Dropping shadow tree seeds on Dunop is more than a reaction to a raid. It is an act of barbarism. Dwarves from all of Uton would hear of the deed. What do you think would be happening now if the delver did not save Dunop? Every dwarf city would be ready to raise arms against us. Another elf-dwarf war. That’s what you would have caused.”

The possibility rang true. Many elves cringed at the thought. All out war with the dwarves would be beyond disastrous.

Petiole wavered with indecision. He pained for a way out, an escape from the accusing mob. “What else was I to do? Yes, I heard the news of the dwarf attack on Burbon. I believed it meant you failed. That is why I dropped the seeds.”

Lief sent the dagger strike to Petiole. “You dropped the seeds because you are weak, because you are not like Mappel.”

Petiole erupted. “No, I am not Mappel! Every elf talks of Mappel. No one listens to me. Every time I make a decision, I face the same question. Is that what Mappel would have done? I don’t care what Mappel would have done! I am the elder of this camp. I make the decisions. Now, I order that you be banished from this camp. You have questioned my authority for the last time. I order the guards to escort you away from Dark Spruce.”

Lief glared. “I know too well the tradition and oath that binds the guard. I know it well enough to say that though they must protect the camp elder, they must also follow the law, the law you have now broken for all to see. You ordered the use of shadow trees when they were no longer needed. You broke your word and risked all out war. You failed to act in the best interests of this camp, indeed for the best interest of all the elves. You did so out of your own cowardly reasons. Do any of your advisors or counselors deny this?”

As Lief looked around, not one spoke out in denial.

“Does anyone refute the charges I have named against this elf?”

Again, silence.

Petiole stammered. “You cannot make any charges. You are banished. Guards, take him away now!”

The guards did not move.

Petiole stood aghast. “Take him, I said.”

The guards on the ground returned to the trees. Petiole cringed with horror and disbelief, stepped back with a weakening will and a festering fear.

Lief eyed Petiole with disgust. “The camp must decide what to do with you. You have committed a crime too atrocious to simply ignore. Dropping the seeds could have meant a greater war, it could have meant the lives of far too many.”

“He must pay for his crime,” an elf called from the crowd.

“He should be turned over to Dunop,” another stated. “It is the dwarves that must decide the just punishment.”

Lief nodded in agreement, as did many others.

#

“This isn’t right,” Sy grumbled. “Storms don’t come in like this. Not even in the growing season, and we’re just about at dormancy. What do you make of it?”

Ryson had no answer. He’d seen nothing like it before. Dark purple clouds rushed in from the southwest, raged forward like a rabid wolf, but then halted at the very edge of Burbon. Directly overhead, a clear border existed between the clear blue sky and the angry tempest. Lightning flashed, streaked to the ground, and hit the hills which bordered the clearing. Thunder exploded, shaking buildings, and startling nearly every member of town. Gale blasts creased the hill grass. Within the center of the tumult, the billowing clouds continued to ebb and flow, to undulate like a liquid in a boiling cauldron, but the storm itself ceased to move forward. It had simply stalled. Wind blown rain crashed against the hills, but not a drop fell upon Burbon’s streets.

“I don’t know,” the delver admitted. “It’s getting awfully warm. It’s like a hurricane.”

Sy questioned the theory. “Here? From the southwest? This time of the year?”

“I know. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“And why did it just stop? I’ve never seen a storm do that in my life. How long has it been just sitting out there? It’s like it’s watching us. Whatever this is, it’s not natural.”

“You thing this is more magic?”

“What else could it be?” Sy grunted. “Where’s Enin?”

“I haven’t seen him.”

“Blast. This has got to be something he can understand a whole lot better than us.”

“I can go try and find him.”

Before the delver could move, an angry voice held him in place.

“Send me the delver!” The tempest demanded.

Ryson turned pale. His vast memory linked the voice with one he had heard before. “Godson! It’s Yave.”

“The dwarf queen?” Sy gaped.

For Ryson, there was no doubt. “It’s her.”

The delver stared into the storm, stared in pure astonishment. He looked to the clouds with wonder, looked for something beyond the wind and rain which would link the tempest to the dwarf queen. He searched for an outline of a face in the clouds, but he found nothing. Only the acrimonious voice of the storm indicated Yave’s presence, and it prevailed her will once more.

“Deliver Ryson Acumen to me or I will destroy everything in my path. I will kill everyone in this puny human town.” To punctuate her threat, a bolt of lightning struck the ground a mere two paces in front of the south gate. The thunder clap was deafening.

The town grew still with indecision. They had seen the great power of their own wizard, they knew there was energy beyond their previous understanding, but this went far beyond their expectations. They had fought with elves against dwarves. They had seen shags and goblins, met with monsters of different shapes and sizes, but now, the wind and sky shaped itself against them. Their leader professed the simple question which set upon nearly every tongue.

“How do we fight this?” Sy groaned to himself. “We have no way to defend. This is a storm!” He put a hand to his forehead as his thoughts wrangled over useless tactics.

“I have to go out there,” Ryson offered in a defeated tone.

Sy’s head swung about with astonishment. “What? Are you crazy? What good is that going to do? That storm will kill you.”

Ryson pointed out what was now obvious. “I’ll be dead either way. If I stay here, she’ll take the town apart to get to me. She’s coming after me. I don’t know how she became a storm, but that’s what she is. I know this is ludicrous, but what choice do I have? Where am I going to hide? Look at the wind. She can sweep the land clean of every building here.”

“You can run,” Sy offered frantically. “You move like nothing else in the land. You can run and hide.”

“I can’t outrun that. I can’t outrun the wind.”

“No,” Sy commanded. “You’re not going to just sacrifice yourself. We’re going to find Enin. He might have an answer.”

Movement at the south gate caught both their attentions. Unthinkably, the gate swung open. A single figure stepped forward, away from the wall and into the clearing.

“Enin!” Ryson whispered.

The wizard threw off his cloak, let it flutter to the ground carried by the border winds of the storm. He folded his hands before him, and he stared blankly into the heart of the tempest.

Yave’s voice bellowed over the scream of the wind. “I asked for the delver. I do not know you. You were not at Sanctum. Who are you?!”

“Your end,” Enin replied softly. The whispered response was carried to the skies by the wizard’s will.

Lightning struck in response. It was meant to disintegrate the wizard, but it was forced to bend away from the lone figure. It smashed harmlessly into the clearing.

Enin’s eyes glowed restless. “You have not the power to hurt me.”

A howl erupted from the storm. The clouds swirled, the tempest began to surge. It threatened to sweep forward to crush Burbon in one massive thrust, but the clouds again ceased their progress, this time not by Yave’s will but by Enin’s.

Enin swung his hands to his head. Two circles of white power weaved their way about his wrists. He called to Yave his understanding of the truth. “You are a dwarf with no magic of your own. Your power is limited, where mine is not. You have elected to mix your essence with this storm. An unwise decision.”

The circles broke from his arms. They flew upward, but they left a line in their wake, a conduit back to the wizard. The two rings expanded, encompassing the full breadth of the storm. They wrapped about the clouds and they stifled any chance of escape. Enin took hold of the trailing band, pulled as if he was tightening a noose. And indeed, the circles of white magic shrunk in size, compacted the storm.

Yave fought against the tense grip. She struggled to be free, to loose her fury on all of Burbon, but the clouds which now held her soul could not breach the harness. She felt what was left of her spirit collapsing upon itself. In a fit of rage, a barrage of lightning exploded form her core. Streaks of electric energy knifed downward with the malice of