Delver Magic Book III: Balance of Fate

by Jeff Inlo

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  Ryson was both pleased and annoyed when he first returned to Pinesway. Pleased because most of the corpses had been removed and were not left rotting in the streets. The cold, dry dormant season air would have kept them from decomposing too quickly, but the scent of death certainly would have attracted wild animals and who knows what else from surrounding Dark Spruce. In truth, it almost appeared as if the goblin raid had never happened. Along with the dead being removed, the crossbow bolts the goblins fired had been taken from the ground and the walls.

  The pleasure from the unexpected clean up was short-lived, and Ryson became annoyed when he realized that the brigands had returned to claim the city, and thus probably looted the bodies before they dumped them in the woods. Any weapons left behind by goblins were now prizes for these bandits.

  “So I get rid of goblins and what takes their place? Thieves,” Ryson grumbled, as he moved at a light jogging pace toward the last place he saw Lief Woodson. As he moved through one narrow street, he could not help but sense a trio of would-be bandits laying in wait for a wayward traveler. With his disgust surrounding the circumstances of this abandoned town still fresh in his mind, he decided to see if he could set them straight in the error of their ways.

  He bolted toward their position before they even knew he was there. Two held rough clubs and the last held on to a crossbow. The bow was now of little danger to the delver as it wasn’t yet loaded and Ryson stood too close for the thief to get off a practical shot. With swiftness that left the two club-holding bandits pale, Ryson struck at their wrists with the edge of his own palm. The stinging pain forced them to drop their weapons. He then reached over with near blatant disregard for all three of the thieves and plucked the crossbow from the hands of the leader. He flung it with force against the far wall of an abandoned building. It shattered, rendering it useless.

  Ryson now stood stone still in the midst of the three dumbfounded brigands. He gave them a moment to collect their senses.

  “There’s still three of you and only one of me. Of course, you don’t have your weapons any more. Oh, wait, let’s make sure of that.”

  With speed the villains could not comprehend, Ryson shuffled his feet in two quick kicks and sent the clubs far out of reach.

  The move actually angered one of the men as he felt the kick to his weapon was an insult to his manhood.

  “Why you stinkin’…”

  He reached for Ryson, but his hands found nothing but empty air. The delver dashed around the grappler’s opposing shoulder and ended up behind him. With yet another lightning swift kick from the delver, the angry thief felt a blasting heel to his buttocks and ended up in a heap on the ground.

  The other two decided to stay put. Ryson almost wanted to commend them for their intelligence, but he doubted they would understand.

  “I want all of you out of here. I come back here from time to time and I don’t easily forget faces. I was easy on you this time, next time I won’t be. Move on.”

  Ryson moved right up to the brigand on the ground that had rolled over onto the seat of his pants. Before the thief could stand up, the delver put his face right to his. The cold chill in the air was apparent as Ryson’s breath turned into a cloud of condensation around the bandit’s head. “You understand what I just said?”

  The challenge was clear. This wasn’t even the leader of the three, just some muscle. Ryson had his back to the leader. He did that intentionally. He faced the one he felt was the most emotionally unstable, the one he wanted to send a clear message. The leader would be just smart enough to find another town, but the one that initially attacked him might want to stay to exact some sort of revenge. Ryson wanted to leave no doubt in this man’s mind that such an idea was not in his best interest.

  “You don’t like being on the ground, do you? Well, right now you can get up and walk away. Next time, maybe not. The two behind me, they don’t matter. Forget them—forget what they might think or what they might say. Just move on.”

  Ryson never took his eyes from the man on the ground as he backed away and returned to his path toward the center of town. The thought of the now broken crossbow made Ryson think of the old man he had come across during the goblin raid. He looked about the empty houses and wondered if any of these were the man’s home. He thought for a moment about maybe trying to track him down to see if he was still alive, to see if he needed anything. Then, he remembered how the old man left him and how Ryson knew there wasn’t really anything he could do for him other than to let him be.

  Increasing his speed, the delver quickly reached the town square. Remembering exactly the last spot Lief Woodson stood, Ryson reviewed the ground, examining it for the clear signs of the elf’s path. Delvers were not the best trackers, as their focus often wandered, but they had the natural eye to pick up specific traces of markings. Separating the different paths of goblins, humans, and the elf, Ryson centered his concentration on the tracks he needed to follow. The trail moved in the exact direction Ryson remembered Lief used to make his departure, and thus the delver followed it with confidence. He knew he could at least track the elf through this part of town.

  The elf’s tracks were old, but the lack of any true population in the town kept them clear enough for Ryson to follow. The trail led him through many streets and in an almost directionless path. Ryson realized why when he noted the elf had stopped on several occasions to fire his bow, probably at the fleeing goblins. Remembering the anger Lief displayed, Ryson doubted that any of the arrow shots were meant to do anything but kill. Following Lief’s path eventually led Ryson to the northwest section of town near the river. The trail of the elf changed here, becoming more deliberate. Once Ryson crossed the bridge leading out of town, he picked up a second set of tracks. They were the distinct markings of a river rogue, complete with clawed-tipped, webbed feet imprints in the sandy soil by the river’s edge.

  “So Lief went after the river rogue and it looks like the rogue took off into the forest.” Ryson looked into the trees and then at the sky to fix his own position. “Heading northwest. At least that’s nowhere near the Lacobian, and nowhere near Tabris.”

  Ryson headed off into the northern branch of Dark Spruce Forest following the tracks of the rogue and the elf and hoping that he would find Lief before the trail turned in a different direction.