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

“Childish,” Lief grumbled. He said nothing more until he stood before the camp elder.

“The delver has returned.”

Petiole spoke with resentment, toward both the delver and Lief. “I see that. Where is the cliff behemoth?”

Lief answered for Ryson. “He declined to come.”

Petiole jumped upon the response. “So we have waited for nothing?! You threaten me, you force your decision on me because you are ‘the great Lief Woodson’ and now you come to me with this? If we had been attacked, the blood of any elf would have been on your hands. The delay was uncalled for. Your delver friend returned with nothing. This will not be forgotten. I will move to have you expelled from this camp.”

Lief ignored the threat. “The absence of the cliff behemoth does not end the delver’s plan. He still intends on entering Dunop and stopping this war.”

The statement stunned Petiole.

“Without the cliff behemoth?”

“Yes. He still believes there is a chance to end this before it goes any further. He will enter Dunop, so we still must wait before dropping the seeds.”

“You still want me to wait? You have no cliff behemoth and you still want me to wait?”

“You gave us five days,” Lief answered simply.

“Five days to bring a cliff behemoth before me, not five days for nonsense. What can this delver do to stop this war? The cliff behemoth had a chance, he does not.”

Lief did not back down. “You said you would withhold from using the seeds for five days to allow Ryson the chance to stop this war. He still intends to do so.”

“How?” Petiole demanded.

“The sword,” Lief answered just as bluntly, but his tone carried a challenge.

Petiole appeared to weaken at the response. He bit down on his bottom lip with uncertainty.

Ryson watched with growing interest as Lief played upon the elder’s display of weakness.

Lief growled with authority. “The sword, a prized possession of this camp for untold cycles, which was given to this delver by Mappel. It was done because the sword revealed new powers in his hands. Are you going to deny the existence of those powers?”

Petiole slumped. It was difficult enough for him to argue with Lief, but to cast doubt upon the memory of Mappel was beyond his abilities. It was Mappel’s shoes he could not fill. It was Mappel’s reputation he could not meet on his own terms. He was always cast in the past elder’s shadow. He was always compared to the memory of the fallen leader, and always unfavorably. Mappel’s decision to give the enchanted sword over to the delver was never debated. It was also well known that in the delver’s hands the sword destroyed the sphere and saved the elves. Surely, the camp would scorn him if he questioned the power of the sword. They would turn against him, question him like they always did.

The current elder mouthed puny resistance. “Yave is far removed from the sword. It is here and she remains in the cave castle of Dunop.”

“That is why the delver still plans to enter the dwarf city.”

“So what does the delver intend to do?”

“He will allow Yave to hold the sword. It will break the hold of her madness.”

Petiole seized quickly upon a weakness. He saw a way to attack the logic of the plan while not attacking the enchantment of the sword. He spoke with renewed vigor. Again, the resentment and sarcasm dripped from his every word. “And how will he accomplish that? Simply walk into the throne room of Dunop and command her to hold the sword?”

Ryson jumped into the fray for the first time. He was growing tired of Petiole’s resistance. He was not looking forward to entering Dunop, but he had made the choice. Better to get it over with as quickly as possible then to stand here and argue.

“Not simple and not command,” the delver said. “I do intend to walk into Dunop, but I will surrender myself as the delver that was with Tun at his death. Yave will demand to see me. You can’t doubt that. She probably blames me as much as the algors. She must also know the sword I carry played a great role in our deeds at Sanctum. I will offer it to her as a sign of my own grief. She’ll either accept it as such or take it as a trophy of her victory over me. Either way, I truly believe she will take hold of the handle. That is all I can hope for. I can’t control the rest.”

“And who does?” Petiole attempted to fight the idea.

Ryson answered flatly, not hesitating to reveal his uncertainty. “Fate, maybe. Destiny, maybe even Godson. Who can tell? I don’t know when or even how the sword will work. It either will or it won’t. If it does, she’ll see the truth. She will see how Tun died and know that it wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“And that is it?” Petiole pressed.

Lief eyed the elder with growing hostility. “And what more do you want?”

The elf guards appeared to tense.

Petiole brooded. Finally, he lit upon an acceptable solution to his own fears. “I want assurances from you. I want you to take responsibility for everything that happens from this point on. If the delver fails, I want you to admit it as your failure. I want you to leave this camp and never return. And if you are banished, I want you to admit I was always correct, state that the shadow trees were our only true choice.”

Lief glared with burning thoughts. Puny leader, puny elf. He spat out his response like a bitter taste. “On the first, you will have more than my word. It will be clear that I back this course of action for I am accompanying Ryson to Dunop. No one will question that I demanded the delay of the shadow trees. And if we fail, you will not have to demand my exile. If we can not stop the dwarves, I will not be returning. As to the last, defending the use of the shadow trees will be your concern, not mine.”

“You will go with the delver into the caves?” Petiole asked with more than a hint of hopefulness.

“I will remain with him unless the dwarves choose to separate us,” Lief replied firmly.

“But you will put your fate in the hands of Yave and the dwarves?”

Lief did not hesitate in insulting the elder, something he would never have considered with Mappel. “I put my fate in things obviously beyond your reckoning. I will not, however, run from the dwarves. I will enter Dunop. I am sure they will take me prisoner along with Ryson. They will not let me go unless Ryson succeeds. That should be enough for you.”

Petiole sneered, but said nothing. He grumbled then nodded his acceptance.

Lief wished to leave the elder immediately. He took one last look at the guards before he left. They returned his glance with suspicion. “Fire upon you fools.” He swung his shoulders about and marched back toward the center of camp.

Near a small tent made of pine branches, Lief made his final preparations. He removed his thin, double-edged sword from his belt, and the bow and quiver from his shoulder. He looked to the delver to give his explanation.

“If we are surrendering to the dwarves we should go unarmed, except for your sword of course.”

The delver agreed. His hand went to his pouch searching for his dagger. As his fingers came up empty, he recalled the algor burial where he had left his knife in the sand. “I don’t have my knife anymore. I’m going to have to replace it when I get back to Burbon.”

Lief smiled. “Optimism. I like it.”

Ryson chuckled at the thought. “I guess so. Well, do you know where the entrance to the dwarf city is?”

“It is not far. We can reach it well before dark. You realize we will meet resistance immediately. The entrance was the point of meeting between elf and dwarf when we traded goods. They will not leave the passage unguarded.”

“I didn’t think they would.”

With no other preparations, the two left the elf camp. The elf took to the trees and the delver followed at ground level. As Lief jumped from branch to branch, Ryson rambled across the ground, twisting and turning like a fleeing rabbit. He did not wish to be caught by any enemy until he reached the cave-city entrance. Lief called out directions from above and the two crossed the necessary distance without incident.

Close to the entrance, Ryson called out a warning of his own. “I’ve caught a scent. I think it’s dwarf.”

“Probably,” Lief replied. “The entrance should be within your sight. Look to the northwest, through that clump of willows. Do you see the thick brush?”

Ryson spied it in a heartbeat. “Yes. That’s it? It’s not in a hill side?”

“No. There are not many hills this deep in the forest. The entrance is a small vertical drop into a tunnel. The tunnel declines at a fairly steep grade with few turns.”

“Do you think there are dwarves outside?”

“It must be a scout hidden in the brush. That’s probably the scent you have seized. He is most certainly back down the tunnel by now, warning others. There won’t be any others outside. It would not be wise, especially if they are worried about a counter attack from elves. They would be targets for archers.”

Ryson tore off in a blur of motion. At top speed, he circled the clump of brush. His eyes scanned nearly every inch of the forest surrounding the mound. The area was clear. He stopped several body lengths from the brush. He could detect the outline of the hole which led to the access way. He waited for Lief to drop from the trees to join him before he moved closer.

As the elf hit the ground, he showed signs of tension. He looked at the hole with apprehension.

Ryson sensed it. “Anything wrong? I didn’t see anyone around.”

“It’s the tunnel. I do not like being bottled up in the ground.”

“I didn’t think of that. Do you want to stay here?”

Lief was resolute. “By now, the dwarves know we are here together. We have to surrender together. Otherwise, they will suspect a trick.”

“What should we do? Call to them? Announce our surrender?”

“It’s a start.”

Lief called out their intentions to the silent hollow. He then turned to Ryson. “There is little else for us to do now but move forward.”

Ryson did not wait for an objection and immediately took the lead. He jumped through the hole before Lief could protest and simply waited for the elf to follow.

As he stood within the tunnel, Ryson marveled at its intricacies. Sparkling beams of light bounced off the walls and cascaded down the descending path. Light gems embedded in the walls and floor reflected the sun beams with perfect precision. The air was strangely dry, almost devoid of the moisture Ryson expected in the cave. It was also surprisingly fresh, a by-product of the dryness. With no mold or mildew, there was little to spoil the air. The tunnel’s construction also amazed the delver. It used no lumber for support. Instead, the very rock and dirt was compacted into a smooth, solid exterior as if they walked within clean and even pipes. The path was amazingly wide and there was plenty of head room for the delver. He could stand without difficulty, and even extend his arms well above his head. He would have to jump slightly to actually touch the tunnel ceiling. It brought a question to his mind as Lief joined him in the access way.