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

moved with similar ease, but he failed to show the same eager enthusiasm. This was no new or unique experience. Traveling within the trees was as normal to him as breathing. It was how all woodland elves traveled. There was never a need to cut a path through dense underbrush as long as the trees formed a forest. Thick branches cast the framework for both their paths and their bridges. There was not a stream in Dark Spruce that could not be crossed by leaping from one tree to another. As easily as squirrels crossed great distances while never placing a single step upon the ground, the elves moved in similar fashion, and Lief was please with the speed in which they crossed Dark Spruce.

With each step, from one tree to the next, the delver became more engrossed with following the path of the quake. Traveling upon the branches became routine. His attention focused squarely upon the quest, and his instincts took greater control of his movements.

The elf followed behind the delver. He allowed Ryson to choose the direction and path. Only occasionally would he lift his head to get his own bearings. To both his distress and satisfaction, he noted their westward movement, movement that carried them in the general direction of Sanctum.

The delver made his decisions based on the signs of the ground below. Once again, his senses focused upon the trail of the tremor. He peered downward often to assess the mark of the quake. Disheveled ground and uplifted roots gave clear indications of the path. The signs of damage became clearer and more extensive with every step. In places, the soil appeared freshly turned. Actual breaks in the ground, cracks and crevices, appeared more regularly. He also noted greater damage to the trees. He found more than one completely uprooted. Tree branches were covered with dust and debris, fallout from the upheaval of the quake.

As they moved onward, they took fewer and fewer breaks. Ryson rushed forward, the trail beckoning him with greater influence. Even as the path became clearer, something in the distance called out to his instincts, something akin to a faint echo. He could not seize the true fabric of this call, but he was certain something of great importance waited for his discovery. He wondered if it would hold the answer to his questions or only create more mysteries, but whatever the case, he wished to find it. Such was the strength of his pursuit that he nearly forgot about his companion.

The elf kept pace, although it proved to be a struggle. As accustomed as Lief was to this form of travel, he was not prepared for the great speed of a delver. He called upon his own natural skills to keep up. He considered calling out to Ryson to slow his travel, but changed his mind as he saw the outline of Sanctum Mountain.

It was just as he thought, even as he feared. Following the path of the tremor continued to lead them to his personal objective, the site of entombment for the Sphere of Ingar. Even as he mulled the seriousness of this sign in his mind, he still could not guess what the final outcome might be. Again, he cursed the lore and the prophecies. Not a word about this existed, not a prophecy, not even a warning. Nothing.

The elf gritted his teeth as he smelled the late afternoon air. It was heavy with magic, power that should not exist. Such energy was captured long ago, captured by the sphere, which was in turn buried deep within Sanctum. Yet, the magic was strongly prevalent here. More proof that the sphere’s centuries long entombment had ended. Powerful thoughts as well as fears filled the elf with despair and confusion. Lief became so consumed, he almost passed by the delver.

Ryson had come to a complete halt within a broad leafed maple. He stood rigid upon a heavy bough. He looked off to the north. His nose sniffed the air as he remained motionless. Only the elf’s continued movement caused him to react. As Lief stepped forward to Ryson’s side, the delver put out an arm and grabbed the elf’s shoulder. He made it very clear that he wanted silence.

The elf complied completely. He crouched slightly but then remained perfectly still. He peered in the same northern direction. His sharp eyes caught glimpses of movement within a shout’s distance away, but branches, leaves and pine needles blocked clear sight of the ground based commotion.

Ryson moved his head near the elf’s ear.

“What do you see?” he whispered.

Lief stared for a moment more. He answered in a whispered but sturdy voice. “My vision is blocked, but I make out the movement of at least three. There may be more out of sight. I have caught the glint of steel in the sunlight, normally a sign of weapons or armor, but I can not say what they carry. I also can not determine who they are. It is hard to say for sure, but they appear short in size. They might be nothing more than human children, though I can not explain the existence of steel if they were. Perhaps, they are soldiers that are crouching.”

Ryson shook his head. “I don’t think so. What do you hear?”

The elf brushed the hair away from the side of his head, again revealing one pointed ear. He listened for a moment and grimaced before explaining. “It is strange, a grumbling of strangely pitched voices. It reverberates with a strange echo, as if they were talking in a cave. I can not make out any words.”

Ryson did not respond. He sniffed the air again, and then put a hand to his chin. He crouched deep in thought as he considered their findings.

The elf turned his gaze upon the delver. “You are confused. What’s wrong?”

“The smell,” Ryson acknowledged. “It’s strange to me.”

“It was the smell that made you uncover the undead, was it not?”

“Yes, but this is different. This isn’t decay. This is something totally new.”

The elf took a moment to cast a glance at the outline of Sanctum. “If I am right about the sphere,” he whispered, “and now I believe I am certain, there is magic in the air. That may be what affects your smell.”

“The scent is coming from that group,” Ryson insisted. “They’re the source.”

“More evil,” Lief mumbled as he turned his attention back to the unidentified strangers. “I see another. I’m sure there are now at least four. They wear thick breast plates. I believe they are warriors of some type.”

“Perhaps, but they’re not human,” Ryson said with great certainty.

“They may be dwarves,” Lief interjected. “That would explain their apparent size. It would explain the chest plates, although they only wear armor in times of battle. I wish I could see their faces.”

Ryson blinked at the thought. “Dwarves?”

The elf quickly reminded Ryson of the situation he faced. “Remember your legends, delver. You see before you an elf, and you have faced the undead. Take my word for what it is. Dwarves still live in this world.”

“I guess it’s possible.”

“But still confusing,” Lief added. “Dwarves do not make a practice of mulling about in the woods, even close to a mountain. They live in the comfort and security of tunnel caves. Daylight is not kind to their eyes. I can not understand why they might be here.”

The elf paused a second before offering his own theory. “Perhaps they are also aware of the freed magic. They might be here to inspect the tomb. It would explain much.”

Ryson made it clear he wanted more than just a plausible theory before they disregarded this encounter. “How can we be sure?”

Lief responded with quick certainty. “We need to get a better look at them. Dwarves are unmistakable in feature. All are stout and powerful. They are shorter than the average human. Their faces are much like yours or mine except stern, as if chiseled. The men wear long beards, and most let their hair grow full and long. They wield axe, mace, and broadsword.”

“Excellent,” Ryson exclaimed. “Let me go and have a look at them. I’ll come back and tell you if your description fits.”

Lief’s voice grew stern and demanding. “You do not intend to go alone? I shall accompany you!”

The delver shook his head. “No. I’ll move easier if I only have to worry about myself.”

“But that is not all you have to worry about,” Lief responded adamantly. “You face many things you know little of. I can not let you blunder mindlessly into such a thing.”

“I have no intention of blundering into anything. I fully intend on being as careful as possible.”

“You will take greater care if I am with you.”

“I don’t think so,” Ryson whispered. “This is what I do. You’ve seen me move, do you really question my abilities? I can investigate without being seen or heard, but to do it well, I have to move alone.”

Lief considered what he had already learned watching the delver upon this day. He could not deny the skills which were inherently the delver’s. He accepted the situation, although reluctantly. “Very well, but take heed. Dwarves are known to be dangerous. They are strong and deadly with their weapons. If you arouse them, they might attack. If you are spotted, I suggest you flee. It is your best chance. I can tell you truly, no dwarf could match you in speed and agility.”

“I’ll remember that. I’ll be back in a moment. This shouldn’t take very long.”

Ryson looked about quickly before leaping to a higher branch. He continued climbing, barely making a sound or even disturbing a single leaf. As soon he was several lengths above his previous position, he moved toward the unidentified persons. High in the trees, the delver used the cover of the branches and leaves to his every advantage. He became less a shadow and more a part of the trees themselves. He made his way to a better vantage point before dropping down several branches. He quickly obtained a position which allowed a clear view of the group below. He pulled the spyscope from his pouch and gained close view of his quarry. He found the spectacle most surprising. The characteristics he spotted did not come close to matching the description given by the elf. Except for the short stature, these creatures looked nothing like dwarves.

Closer to the group, he counted seven in all. They were odd looking, actually disgusting creatures. They had round, balloon-like heads, with a grayish tint, maybe even a hint of purple. Thick heavy skin, apparently layers and layers, swelled around the cheeks and eyes. It made their faces look puffy and swollen. Thin lips outlined very wide mouths. Within these mouths, Ryson saw long disorganized rows of small, square teeth. Thin wisps of wiry gray and black hair dotted their round heads. Their noses were different and unique from creature to creature. Some had short, round noses. Others had long pointed ones. One had no true nose at all, only two nostril openings at the center of its face.

As for their weapons, they carried small crossbows draped over their backs, and they wore short swords at their sides. They wore thick plates covering their chests. It was their only protection.

Ryson listened as the creatures continued to mull about the ground. They spoke in muffled grumblings. The delver could not decipher a single word.

Before leaving his position, he peered about looking for any stragglers or guards. With careful eyes, the delver quickly spotted a single creature hiding up in the branches over the others. This guard cradled a crossbow in its arms.

Secure that he was aware of all the potential hazards, Ryson silently returned to