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

“It’s alright. You don’t have to say anymore. I think I understand.”

Rachael forced herself to speak further. “Then explain it to me. I’m so confused. I remember the dwarves coming here before. They were here to help. Matthew told us all of what happened at Sanctum. The dwarves were on our side. One of them even died to save the land. Why are they doing this now?”

Ryson spoke as soothingly as possible. “Because they lost sight of what happened. It was the queen’s son who died. She wants to blame us all for his death. It doesn’t make any sense, but that’s what’s happening.”

Rachael simply shook her head.

Ryson did not want to dismiss her questions, but again time made its demands. He moved to the point of his appearance. “I’m here trying to stop all of this. I’m here to see Matthew. I need his help.”

Rachael’s expression of confusion was now clouded with sorrow. She obviously did not want to speak words of explanation. She dropped her gaze to the floor. She floundered with uncertainty. She finally spoke, but it was more of a disheartened whisper.

“I’ll bring you to him. Follow me.”

Ryson followed, his delver curiosity matching his apprehension. He moved behind Rachael, walked in her footsteps to the reader’s back room. Another sight of tragedy greeted him.

Just as the benches had been cleared away, so too was the reader’s desk. A single bed rested in the middle of the room. Matthew slept there, pasty white and frail. He appeared older than the delver remembered. While sleeping, Matthew’s chest rose and fell as if breathing was a constant struggle. His arms rested over his covers, the gray color of his hands seemed to blend into the dingy tint of the sheets. Other than the fading yellowness of some bruises, there were no other signs of injury around his upper body. Ryson’s gaze followed the outline of the reader’s form beneath the sheet which covered him. One of his legs did not show through. Ryson groaned.

The noise woke the reader. His vision, clouded at first, slowly found the delver. His eyes cleared as again the sight of Ryson brought joy to his beholder. Matthew grinned, laughed with relief until he coughed. The weakness in his body could not overcome his delight.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” the reader marveled.

“It is.” Ryson attempted to maintain high spirits. “I guess I’ve been away too long. How are you holding up?”

Matthew laughed again. “You have a delver’s eye. You tell me. Are you going to pretend you didn’t notice my leg, or the absence of one?”

“I noticed. I still want to know how you’re feeling now.”

“It’s not my time, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Rachael could not hold back a sob.

Matthew looked at her with comforting eyes. “It’s alright, Rachael. You have to stop worrying about me. I’m going to be fine.” The reader redirected his attention back to the delver. “For some reason they don’t believe that. I guess they think I’m just fooling myself. I tell you, though, I really believe it. Godson doesn’t want to take me now. There’s more for me to do. Don’t know what it is, but I’m still in the grand plan. Do you believe that?”

Ryson considered all that was happening, all that had happened. “I’ve learned to believe about anything now. I know how strong your faith is. If you believe it, it’s probably true.”

Matthew heaved a heavy sigh. “It’s good to finally hear that.” He turned back to Rachael. “Did you hear him? He believes me, and he’s been touched by Godson.”

Ryson felt a twinge of embarrassment. He felt uncomfortable with such statements. It distanced him from others. He did not want that, did not want to be considered a prophet or a holy relic.

Matthew ignored the delver’s momentary blush. His attention remained fixed upon Rachael. “Why can’t the rest of you believe me? I tell you I’m not going to die, yet you keep coming in here thinking it’s the last time you’ll see me.”

Rachael rattled off her fears. “The doctor. He said your time was short. You lost too much blood and your wound was not healing.”

“Phhh! Doctors. They’re all nothing more than witch doctors and snake oil salesmen. When I get out of this bed and start hobbling around on a cane, they’ll look at me like a medical mystery. The fools might even call it some kind of miracle. They wouldn’t know a miracle if it spat in their faces. I’ll get better and it won’t be any damn miracle.” Matthew suddenly blushed himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to curse, but it’s true. It’s just not my time.”

Ryson flashed a smile toward Rachael. “I think you better believe him. He may try to get up sooner than he’s ready just to prove he’s right.”

Rachael looked to Ryson with expectant hope. She spoke to him as if he was the holy symbol he did not wish to be. “Do you really think he will get well?”

Ryson weighed his answer. He did not want to give this woman false hope, but did not want to crush her spirits, or the reader’s. He searched for a noncommittal answer. As he did, he looked upon the reader. He saw a spark of life. In that instant, he began to believe himself that it was just not Matthew’s time. Despite the reader’s pale cheeks, the grey pallor which covered his exposed arms, Ryson sensed an urgency to live.

“Yes. I don’t think he’s going to die, not yet anyway. There’s something about him…I don’t know why, but he’s not going anywhere.” His words hung in the room like the notes of a triumphant choir. Matthew reveled in the glory of the statement. Tears rolled down Rachael’s face.

Ryson’s own smile grew broader. “I hope you can learn to get around with just a cane.”

“I’ll get along fine.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Rachael bubbled over with enthusiasm. After many long days of trying to console the inconsolable, she finally grasped a piece of hope for herself. She wished to share her joy. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave you two alone. I want to tell some of the others.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She nearly ran from the room.

Matthew shook his head. “I don’t know why they’re so concerned about me. Even if it was my time, they shouldn’t consider it such a loss. I’m not so special.”

“Evidently you are,” Ryson quipped.

“Well, I shouldn’t be.”

“Hey, you said it yourself. You still have a destiny here - something important, something about a grand plan. Isn’t that how you put it?”

Matthew fell short of complete agreement. “That doesn’t mean I’m more important than any other follower of Godson. If something happens to me, the task will fall upon someone else.”

Ryson rubbed his hands together. “I don’t think you believe that. Otherwise you would have accepted what the doctor said about you. You probably would have given up and died by now.”

Matthew simply shrugged.

Ryson moved on. “Why don’t you tell me how this happened, how were you hurt?”

Matthew strained to repeat the tale of destruction. The memories obviously pained him. He spoke with grunts of dread as he recounted the scene. “Waves of dwarves attacked at twilight, appearing right out of the ground, crashing out of buildings and onto the streets. Thousands of them, heavily armored, they lashed out at everything in their path. They growled like angry lions and swarmed through the streets like wasps ousted from their nest, but there was also method to their seemingly deranged assault.

“It seemed as if each cluster had its own purpose, some more deadly than others. Formations of dwarves would cross in the streets, ignoring each other but always bent on their independent objectives. To and fro, tightly woven groups of them rambled through the open streets as even more emerged from hidden underground tunnels. With such division, tracking them became impossible. It was just as impossible to know which set of dwarves would openly attack, which would sack the stores of food and supplies, or which would simply set upon destroying the structures of the city.

“The constant barrage, the continuing movement, it all added to the confusion. They kept the soldiers in disarray, the people in panic. The only saving grace rested in the fact that the dwarves were slow and did not use ranged weapons. As long as their intended targets remained out of reach, the dwarves could not cause injury.

“Unfortunately, the soldiers were expected to battle these dwarves, to stop them. Every confrontation was one-sided. The casualties to the army were too numerous to count, the devastation too horrible to recall. Hundreds dead in just the first moments.”

Matthew then turned to his own downfall. “I heard the screams from the streets. Godson, you would have had to have been deaf not to. I herded many of the townspeople into the church. It felt safe and the dwarves seemed to ignore us. They appeared more interested in the merchant stores. I guess a Church of Godson meant little to them, or perhaps they worried about some kind of sacrilege. I don’t know what kind of religion they practice. Whatever the case, they left us alone. From the top of the steps, I could barely see a battle take place down the road. It seemed to be growing darker with each scream I heard, and the screaming didn’t stop. But for some reason, I could make out the shapes of this battle. I counted only about ten dwarves. They went through thirty humans soldiers as if they were facing paper cut outs. They didn’t kill them all. I heard a few cries for help. I couldn’t ignore it. I tried to move quietly. Godson, I was scared. I could hear two or three of our men calling for help, whispering really, but I couldn’t move fast. I was so worried the dwarves would hear me. Truthfully, I wanted to turn back. I kept trying to force the fear out of my head. It didn’t work very well. I just about moved like a snail to get to them. The whole time all I could think of was what might happen to me. I did everything I could to keep from being seen. I even tried to stay in the shadows.”

“They can see very well in the dark,” Ryson interrupted.

Matthew snickered within a cough. “I should have guessed that. I know they live in caves. But I really wasn’t thinking. I was too scared. I finally reached what was left of the soldiers. The first few I checked were dead. I didn’t hear any more cries. I began to think I was too late. I heard one gasp and I moved to a soldier near the edge of the road. He was hurt bad, but not fatally. If I could get him back to the church, I could save him. I never got the chance.”

Matthew paused. He steadied himself as he recalled his last memories of that night. “When I started to lift the soldier, I caught movement ahead of me. A dwarf had snuck up to my position. A female warrior. She didn’t look happy. I guess I wasn’t a threat as a reader of this church, but I became one when I tried to help the soldier. She pierced the man I was trying to help in the middle of his chest with her broadsword. She then took a slash at my hip. You know, I didn’t feel any pain, but I saw my leg topple out from under me. It really was a strange sight. I know I