Delver Magic II: Throne of Vengeance by Jeff Inlo (interesting books to read txt) 📕

The order was on his lips. All logic pointed to this one course of action. All that was necessary was for him to speak the command, but Sazar remained silent.

He paced the hilltop, always looking to the shadow of Burbon in the distance. Just as his snake-like tail slithered through the grass behind him, images of greater glory wavered through his thoughts. A more enticing opportunity was at hand, he could taste it. A war. There was nothing firm, no strong evidence, but he could not shake the belief that it was imminent.

The participants were certainly in place. The elves, the dwarves, the algors; all signs pointed to escalating tensions. The invasion by the dwarves on Burbon certainly indicated hostility, but Sazar was quick to remind himself that small skirmishes did not always lead to all out war. Nothing fit perfectly, but nothing contradicted his theory, either. Coincidence would only go so far to explain what he already knew. Then, there were the rumors. They were strong, too strong to ignore. Rebellion in Dunop and strained relations between elves and dwarves.

The rumors were supported by fact. The dwarves had attacked the humans. This was not a sign of healthy relations. Elves from Dark Spruce were now speaking with the humans, not something they did in the past. Yes, there was tension.

A few questions bothered him. Where did the algors fit in all of this? Why did the delver and the elves head off into the Lacobian desert in the first place? And why did no algors come back? How far would the hostilities go? Which races would be allies, which would be enemies, and which would try to remain neutral?

The serp stalked the tall grass as if he was hunting rodents. His mind, however, was firmly set upon the puzzle. He wanted a war, but should he count on it? He had before him a known opportunity, a chance to obtain much needed supplies. He did not wish to let the chance of a successful raid slip through his reptilian fingers, but how much greater were the rewards in the event of a larger conflict?

He considered his quandary. Perhaps, he should call for the raid anyway. He was not really worried about any goblin casualties. He could always find replacements. Goblins were as plentiful as weeds. He might be able to raid Burbon and still enjoy the later opportunities of war.

Still, he did not want to be a factor in the culmination of the coming conflict. He did not want his decisions to change the course of events. In all honesty, he wanted the war more than he wanted this single raid. He would have both if he could, but he would not risk the one for the other. That is where he needed to remain careful.

If only he knew for sure, if only he had more information. He would bless the goblin that could bring him such intelligence.

As if in answer to his own twisted prayers, the goblin he promoted and sent to Dark Spruce came into his view. The goblin labored through the tall grass and up the hill. It was out of breath, but eager to speak.

“Sazar, sir. My party has returned. We have found what you wished to know. The elves were indeed attacked by the dwarves.”

The serp’s eyes gleamed. He appeared like a cobra ready to strike. “You are sure?”

“We are sure,” the goblin exhaled heavily, still trying to catch its breath. “We did not see the battle, but we overheard elf guards. There was an attack, but they do not know where the dwarves came from. A few argued that they had to come from Dunop.”

“Of course they came from Dunop,” Sazar said with near glee. “They attacked the humans, and now, also the elves. This is too good to be true. Do you understand what this means? Don’t answer. Of course you don’t. Fortunately for you, I do. A skirmish between the humans and the dwarves may not lead to anything more than confusion. The humans would not know how to respond. They worry more about protecting their town. They would not seek a counter offensive. But the elves, they are a different story. They will not simply forget this. They will want to respond. There has always been tension between the elves and the dwarves. This will be the spark to a greater fire. There will be more attacks, greater tension, escalating hostilities.”

Sazar began to pace the hilltop again. This time, however, he appeared like a child at a birthday party; excited, gleeful, impatient, wondering what present to open first.

“The two elves came back with the humans. That means that all three races will be involved. The algors did not show. That may mean they wish to remain neutral. Still, conflict between the others affords us so many opportunities.” He turned back to the goblin. “Truly, this is a time for us all to rejoice. We have just what we want. War.”

A full-fledged war. Music to his ears. The potentials of such a proposition opened before him. His goblins would be like vultures waiting near the edges of every battle, ready to steal weapons from the dead and defeated, ready to hunt the wounded for food and gems or gold. There would be a need for spies. The humans would pay for information. There would be a need for assassins. How much would the dwarves pay for the services of his shag?

This news also brought an end to his languishing over the raid. His decision was made. There really was no choice. If war was possible, he should hold off his goblins.

War was a tricky thing. It started and stopped over the smallest incidents. There would also be another time, another night for a raid. Perhaps not as perfect as this one, but he would find another moment. After all, the tunnel would still be there and Burbon wasn’t going anywhere. The raid simply had to wait for another time. Too bad.

#

“I can’t allow this. This has to be stopped.” Ryson was more than adamant, he was blazing with dissent. The memory of the shadow trees invoked his passions. He narrowed his focus directly upon Lief. “You were with me, down at the bottom of Sanctum. You saw those things. You can’t let this happen again. They’re a nightmare.”

Ryson’s voice trembled. To him, it was more than a bad dream. The shadow trees were real, and they waited in the darkness of his memories. His recollection of this horror was as crisp as a dried leaf. It would never leave him. The delver spent many a sleepless night fighting off the memory of the terror in the dark.

“I don’t care what the dwarves did. Nothing would justify this. If the seeds are dropped on Dunop, the trees will kill all the dwarves. The young, the old. The innocent! Everyone down there.”

“It was not my decision,” Lief replied. His expression was colored with the gloom of his own memories of the monstrosities.

“Godson! It’s everybody’s decision. Yours, mine, everyone’s. We either allow it, or we don’t”

Linda was shocked by his outburst. “Ryson. Try to clam down. I don’t think he wants this to happen any more than you do.”

Ryson could not, would not, calm his emotions. “It’s his camp. He can stop it. He’s respected there.”

Holli spoke somberly. “He tried. He could not sway the opinion of the camp leaders. They see Yave as a threat to our existence.”

“But you’re not just putting an end to Yave, you’re putting and end to Dunop. Godson, maybe even worse. Don’t forget the algors and what they’re planning. What do you think is going to happen when the sand giants start breaking through the tunnels? They’re going to open more paths underground to get to the dwarves. The shadow trees will spread, they’ll spread into the desert and right under the algors. How many will die? This is beyond not being right, this is criminal.”

Holli reminded him of who he was shouting at. “Be that as it may, Petiole would not listen to Lief, and right now you are blaming him.”

Ryson would not concede the point. He remained livid. “I’m blaming everyone. Myself included. I have to do everything I can to stop them as well.”

“What would you do?” Holli questioned sharply.

“Let me talk to Petiole. I’ll stop him.”

“He would not listen to you. He did not listen to Lief. You do not fully understand what is happening in our camp.” Holli did not pause, did not for a moment contemplate whether or not to speak the true reasons for this calamity. Without hesitation and with the clarity of a mission briefing, she pinpointed the crux of the dilemma. “Petiole is the eldest elf, but he is a weak leader. He worries more about how the elves view him. He believes the dwarf raid was a direct attack against his leadership. He is angry and offended. He believes he has to act to bring back the respect of the camp.”

Ryson was aghast. The idea of using the shadow trees to defend one’s reputation was beyond depravity. “Good Godson, you can’t be serious? Is he mad?”

“It is not my place to say. “Holli replied evenly. “It is simply what he wishes. And Petiole will see any attempt to stop his plans as an affront to his authority, a challenge. He will not listen to you anymore than he would listen to the youngest elf of our camp.”

“Then you need a new leader!” Ryson demanded.

Holli did not answer. No matter how much she agreed with this, as an elf guard, she was sworn to protect the camp elder’s authority.

Ryson noted her reluctance. His eyes narrowed upon the elf guard. “You can’t tell me you support this? You have to agree this has to be stopped? Don’t you?”

The elf guard fell silent. Worse for Ryson, she became stone-faced, rigid to anything he might say.

The delver’s disbelief over the situation doubled. “I don’t care who the leader is, you can’t let this happen. If you do, you’re saying you think every dwarf in Dunop is responsible for what’s happening here. Worse, you’re saying everyone has to be punished. Not only punished, but tortured. I saw those shadow trees. I know what they’re like. If you don’t do something to stop this, you’re sentencing all of Dunop to an end so painful it’s probably beyond your comprehension.” He waited impatiently for some kind of response from the elf.

Holli still would not answer. She did not return his blazing glare. Instead, she looked over his shoulder, beyond him as if he was not there.

The silence brought discomfort.

Lief attempted to break it. He did his best to speak for her. “Easy to say, not easy to do. Elf leadership is probably older than any form of human government. It is as old as the ancients, it comes from elflore.”

Ryson was not even slightly swayed. His emotions continued to bubble over like a burning stew. “So what are you saying? Because of your traditions you’re going to allow what you call a weak leader to kill thousands beyond thousands with this horror that should never have even been created? Isn’t that what you said about the shadow trees when you first told me about them? You were embarrassed that the elves could even conceive of