Delver Magic I: Sanctum's Breach by Jeff Inlo (read novels website .TXT) 📕

Ryson began pacing about the desert floor as he inspected the lower level of the sandstone wall. He knelt down at a few places and rubbed his hand against the rough, porous rock.

Holli virtually ignored him, and for the first time since their trip began, she allowed him to move about without following close behind. She kept a steady breath and a watchful eye, but she knew in her current position she was defenseless, an easy target for a myriad of attacks. She accepted the role with the same stubborn determination which moved her full speed through the desert. If she was to be sacrificed for the success of her mission, that was merely the distinction of her duty.

Ryson continued examining the rock wall. He would stand and brush the sand from his knees, only to take a few steps and kneel again. “I don’t think they built this thing themselves,” he muttered. “I think the wind and perhaps a long extinct river shaped it originally, but they sure made enough adaptations. I wouldn’t be surprised if those openings led to a completely intertwined tunnel system, except for maybe a few of the lower ones. They’re decoys. I doubt they go anywhere accept to dead ends. But they’re definitely traps for possible invaders.” He pointed to three openings which were closest to the ground, only three or four body lengths above the desert floor. “You see those three? If we went into any of those we wouldn’t come out. They’re all set to collapse. I guess the algors figured if invaders tried to climb up, they would investigate the first openings they came across. If they did, they’d never get a chance to climb any higher. Not that climbing it would be easy, not without the right tools anyway. Although, it looks like they’ve made some false facings that seem sturdy, but probably wouldn’t hold any weight.”

Ryson again stood erect and brushed his knees, then his hands. Loose grains of sand showered back to the ground before he walked placidly back to Holli’s side.

“I don’t think climbing is an option,” Ryson said as he shook his head. “No, it’s a safer bet if we stay here and wait for them to come out. That’ll probably also let them feel better about us. We won’t be forcing ourselves on them. I suggest we simply make camp here and hope they come out to see us.”

Holli scanned the area. Overall, the plan held merit. The towering sandstone wall provided shade from the afternoon sun. It appeared the desert vegetation also approved of the cooler, albeit shadier ground. Groups of cacti and brush arose from the sand with greater numbers along this section of desert. Ryson had previously proven his skill in finding pockets of underground water, and she believed he would have no difficulty here. The canyon side also would prove to grant protection from hot southwesterly winds. In the refuge of the sandstone, the sand was not as dry and loose as in the open desert. It did not burn to the touch or grate with the same abrasiveness as the sand they just recently walked across. Indeed, this area held many advantages for a camp site, yet she looked to the openings far overhead with a weary eye.

“I do not like making a camp so close to this wall,” she said firmly. “We are almost inviting an ambush. They could attack us at anytime from anywhere.”

Ryson arched his neck as he directed his gaze across the face of the rock canyon. “That’s very true, and I’m sure that bothers you. I just don’t think we have any choice.”

“There are always choices.”

“That’s also true, but none of the other choices will give us as much of a chance to convince the algors that we’re here to see them and that we’re not just a couple of lunatics out for a stroll in the desert.”

“They may think that no matter what we do. And if that is the case, it may be more reason for us to consider our security.”

“Let me ask you this, have you heard of the algors attacking any one of your people?” He paused to allow her to answer, but she remained silent. He continued, explaining his own difficulties of what they faced. “You see, I really don’t know what to expect. I have no experience with algors. I’m basing all of my decisions on what Mappel has told me and from what I see in the desert.”

“I have no experience with the algors, either,” Holli admitted frankly. “The race avoids all contact with others. The elves have no cause to venture into the desert and the algors apparently care little for the forests. I can’t say that I have ever heard of the algors attacking an elf, but I have also never heard of an elf seeking them out in their desert home.”

“So you think it’s wiser to keep a safe distance from them?”

Holli simply nodded.

Ryson crossed his hands in front of him. He tapped his thumbs together methodically, in rhythm with his thoughts. Algors; a race akin to the lizards, forming communities, yet living solitary lifestyles in the vast reaches of the desert. He knew so little about them. Mappel said they spoke in the same language. That in itself was difficult to imagine, large upright lizards holding a conversation. The image was laughable.

Yet, was that not the point of his mission? As absurd as it seemed, his main goal was to meet and talk with the algors, to convince them of the danger to the land and all of its inhabitants. Here he was, already in the desert, already following the thin veneer of signs that led him to this canyon.

In the end, he returned to the very things which brought him to this place. He turned to his inner most feelings. He hoped his own deepest instincts would guide him to a decision, just as they guided him through the desert. If he expected to meet with the algors to explain the breach in Sanctum and the threat of the sphere, he would have to gain their trust. With that thought, he gained the answer to his question. They would wait here in the open, wait for the algors to acknowledge them. How could he expect them to trust him, if he did not trust them first?

He made his decision known to Holli by yelling out to the canyon wall and the many openings within it.

“Algors! My name is Ryson Acumen. I’m a delver. I am with Holli Brances, an elf. We are here to speak with you.”

His words echoed only slightly overhead against the cliff face. After that, the hot desert air swept them away. No other sound graced the area until Ryson continued.

“All the races must speak together! The Sphere of Ingar is free from Sanctum! We can tell you what we know, but we must meet with you.”

He lowered his head, and his voice, as he turned his attention to Holli. “Let’s make camp here. We have to show them that we trust them. I really don’t think they’ll attack us anyway. They’ll either come down, or they’ll ignore us. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“We will not have to wait at all,” Holli stated abruptly. Her face was expressionless, the demeanor of an elf guard facing the unknown. Her eyes narrowed as they scanned the entirety of the canyon wall. While she fought off her own instincts to pull her sword, she nodded to Ryson to look back.

Ryson caught his breath as he turned. In all of his experiences over the past few days, nothing could prepare him for this bizarre spectacle. Meeting an elf was one thing, this sight yanked at his grip on sanity. Even seeing the ghost of Shayed could not compare to what he now witnessed.

Like a legion of ants flowing from their anthill, countless algors erupted from the openings which abounded across the sandstone. Within mere moments, nearly every cave entrance spat out algors. An endless flow of yellowish green flowed down the canyon wall toward them. They climbed downward with casual ease, each algor moving in concert with the next, so as every apparent space of the cliff face was covered.

At first it was difficult for the delver to center his attention upon a single algor. Their coordinated movements kept Ryson scanning the growing flock as a single entity. Like a shifting, diving, turning school of fish, the moving multitude attracted attention from every angle and direction. Not one algor moved in opposition, not one algor stalled or paused. Step by step, foothold by foothold, lines of algors moved as if directed by a single consciousness. It was like watching a parade of well trained soldiers, soldiers that spent years together so that every movement was in precise order.

The delver and the elf marveled at the whole spectacle. Never had either witnessed such a display. Even the elf guard could not boast of such precise coordination of movement. It seemed impossible, as if the desert had finally taken control of their minds. It was not until the algors began their final approach towards them, that they were able to break free from the hold of the group movement.

As the first wave of algors reached the desert floor and stepped toward him, Ryson gasped out the breath he had held. He inspected their physical characteristics with as much wonder as he watched their movements. An upright toad, as tall as he was, was the only way he could describe them. Large black eyes bulged near the top of every head. Two holes formed nostrils at the end of the rounded snouts that jutted forward. The mouth opening crested wide, far back to the round greenish brown cheeks. Not much of a forehead existed, merely a space above and between the two eyes. The top of their heads curved slightly before dropping down to a wide neck. Small purple bumps took the place of hair.

As for their bodies, the algors wore no cloak to hide their scaly chest which was more yellow than green. Long thin arms hung nimbly from somewhat droopy shoulders. Long narrow legs, which appeared quite flexible, held the light weight of the algor easily. Claws tipped the thin fingers and toes and webbing filled the spaces between each. Just as the legends described, there was no sign of a tail.

More and more of the algors filed down the sandstone mountain and encircled the two messengers. They left a small space around Ryson and Holli as they formed an unbroken circle all the way around, but they left little room for themselves. They clumped themselves together in a growing, continuous ring, hardly leaving enough room to breathe. Arms appeared interlocked as they stood hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder. The chests of those that stood behind the inner ring pressed flat against the backs of those in front of them, and so it was for each ring which spread back from the inner point of Ryson and Holli.

It was all the elf could do to remain calm, to stand as if oblivious to the swarming presence. She bit back urge after urge to draw her sword and maintain a defensive position. It was not so much the sight of the algors which disturbed her, it was the simple fact that they were now completely surrounded. Not a single path existed for their escape. She tried to steady herself, and maintain a casual appearance as if the circling horde did