"It's more than understandable. Think nothing more of it. Now, we have important business to attend to." Lief's congeniality faded into dark seriousness. Bleakness stretched across his face, his words dropped from his mouth like dead anchors. "I must ask you now what you were doing in this part of the forest. It is not a passage and there are no towns about. Are the humans thinking again of expanding their territory? Were you investigating the lands for them?"
"No, not really." Ryson struggled to maintain an even flow of thought. So much had occurred in recent moments; he found it difficult to latch upon those events which brought him to Dark Spruce in the first place. Laboriously, he summed up the reasons for his exploration. "It was the quake, a tremor that rolled through Connel a few days ago." In truth, he wasn't sure how long ago the tremor disturbed the grounds surrounding Connel. He continued as if trying to pull thoughts one by one from his head. "I wanted to see what affect it had on the land. The town council also wanted an exploration. At first, I was sent to inspect damage to some neighboring towns. I've completed that. I left Pinesway this morning to follow the tremor, and that led me into the forest. I'm still trying to see how things have changed. I'm also seeking the origin of the quake."
Lief considered the explanation with apparent confusion. "I do not mean to question you, but when I first spotted you, you were traveling south. You were not following the path of the tremor. That leads to the west"
"Yes. I have to admit I lost my focus," Ryson responded with greater certainty. The reason for his change in direction was the undead attacker, and that memory could not be washed from his mind. "I noticed a smell. It was so strange and new, it pulled at me. Sometimes that's the price of being a delver. We never know how our instincts will guide us. It guided me to this." He nodded to the corpse. The sight now revolted him. "But it is my intention to return to the path of the tremor. By the way, were you aware of the quake?"
The question brought further anguish to Lief's demeanor, graveness painted his face even darker. He looked to the west, as if he could see through the thicket of trees which surrounded them. "I'm all too aware of the disturbance which passed. It is that same tremor which preceded incidents of great magnitude. It is why I have the fears which I do."
"You mean about the Sphere of Ingar?"
"Indeed. While the quake did little damage to our camp, I feel it signified something more. Within hours of the tremor, my people experienced many amazing things. Older elves found themselves rejuvenated with youthful vitality. Younger elves showed an uncanny ability to foretell events and see into the minds of others. As the day passed, it soon became apparent that the members of my camp were becoming filled with a power long since vanished. Many took it as a blessing, a sign that the elves would return to their place in the land's order. I did not look at it in such a favorable light.
"My fears truly became heightened when a very gifted youngster turned invisible at his own will. At that point, I spoke up. I declared that something was very wrong, that the only answer was that the magic long trapped in the sphere was now being released. With no surprise, my announcement created great fear. There were those that refused to believe me. They wished to believe it a blessing and not a curse. Yet, within a day, the more sensitive of my people found themselves feeling ill at ease.
"Again, I spoke up and again I was refuted. This time, however, there were others which spoke with me. Even my harshest critics could not ignore the fact that magic was again free in the air. They persisted, however, that the magic was not from the sphere. They concluded that the magic was freed from the land itself, freed by the quake."
"But you don't think so, do you?" Ryson asked inquisitively. Finally, he found a moment of freedom from the anguish in his mind. The chance to ask questions, to listen and learn of such things as elves and their conversations, to hear of things as foreign as Elvin camps; such things invoked his delver instincts.
Lief shook his head sternly. "I did not then, and I certainly do not now. The dead has been raised. That is not a blessing. This is serious magic, magic that could only have been held by the sphere. Magic caught within the land would not hold the ability or the intention to create undead warriors. If it was not from the sphere, it would be pure and hold no such order. No, I'm afraid the magic must have been corrupted by a powerful sorcerer long ago. All of that energy was captured in the sphere."
"It sounds as if you're convinced," Ryson noted. "I don't know enough to argue the point. I know what I've seen and it does defy all sanity. You're obviously out in the forest for a reason, I assume to help support your theory. That being the case, what is it you want to do?"
"We must travel to Sanctum Mountain. We must learn what we can."
Ryson contemplated the proposal. His face revealed slight hesitancy.
"What troubles you, delver?" Lief asked.
Ryson grimaced. "I must admit that I'm not just following the quake for myself. I promised Reader Matthew I would include him on what I found. If I agree to go with you to Sanctum, it means I'm giving up. I'd rather not do that."
"Who is this Reader Matthew?" Lief requested, perturbed by the thought that something might detract from him obtaining the help of the delver.
"I guess you would call him the spiritual leader for the Church of Godson at Connel," Ryson responded simply.
Surprise filled the elf. He reared his head back as he could not refrain from blurting out a hasty question. "A reader of Godson is concerned about the quake? Did he tell you why?"
"He did. He spoke of the prophesies of Godson. Apparently, they were translated with great accuracy for them by some interpreter. But this tremor wasn't mentioned by the translator. Matthew found this difficult to accept. He wants to know more of the quake, where it came from and what it's done to the land."
"So their prophecies include nothing about the quake, either?" The fact appeared to strike Lief more personally than it should have, almost as if the translated prophecies meant as much to him as they did to Matthew and his followers.
The elf's reaction was not lost upon the delver, and Ryson watched with greater interest as he made his simple response. "Apparently not."
Lief shook his head in tired frustration. "Yet, another factor which now weighs upon me. How do I deal with this? Elflore says nothing about this and now I find the Book of Godson is also lacking. Fire upon the prophecies for not warning us of this. Must we face this without the slightest reference of what might be? How are we to act, what should we do?"
Ryson remained quiet for long moments. He longed to ask about elflore and how it impacted Lief's theories. But the elf remained in deep deliberation, and Ryson let his companion weigh this new information without interruption. He would find another time to ask about such things.
The elf grimaced with uncertainty before turning his attention back to the delver. When he spoke, he said nothing of elflore or the Book of Godson.
"So, the reader wishes you to send word as to what you find. I think we can continue to accommodate that. I do not believe it will be a conflict at all. He wishes you to follow the path of the quake. If I am not mistaken, the path will lead us directly to Sanctum Mountain. I would also go as far as to guess that the reader would also be quite interested in the fate of the sphere. I believe the Book of Godson refers to the sphere and its history."
"I'm not sure about that. While I've been told the legends, I've never received teachings direct from the book. I'm not sure which story comes from where. I would have to agree, though, that Matthew would be interested in knowing of the sphere, if indeed such a sphere exists."
"Free yourself from your doubts, delver. I understand them, but they will only make things more difficult for you. There is a sphere and I am now quite sure that it is responsible for the happenings of the past few days. You must expect to see things you would previously never believed possible. Very simply, the magic is free. How or why it's free is of great concern to me. It is what we must determine. Remember the legends. Keep them in
your mind, hold to them, and believe them. They will help you, and perhaps keep you from madness. They may also save your life."
The elf paused and nodded to the decaying remains upon the ground before them. "You've already faced the undead today. There is no telling what else awaits us."
Ryson looked upon the now lifeless corpse for the last time, a stark reminder of the madness he might face. He noticed the handle of his dagger protruding out of its chest. He fought off his own repugnance and bent over to retrieve it. He wiped the blade on the ground several times. He examined it carefully before returning it to his belt, making sure not the slightest stain remained.
"Speaking of such," Ryson spoke with an edge, "what happens if we face another one of these? What do I have to do to stop it?"
"You must remember it is an undead warrior. It is no longer a living thing. It is a lifeless hulk, animated by dark magic. You can't expect to kill it by thrusting a blade into its heart. It won't be effective, for the heart is no longer important. It also won't feel pain. And it won't feel regret or remorse at attacking. There are only two ways to stop such a creature. You must remove the magic which gives it life, or inflict enough damage so that it is no longer a threat. It takes powerful spells to forcibly remove the energy, so unless you are willing to become a sorcerer, that option is not open to you. That leaves the second. That is what I did. The undead are strong, but their bodies are not very resilient. Decay will do that. If you damage the body to a point where it can no longer hurt you, the magic will leave of its own accord. When I struck the legs of the creature, it was no longer capable of movement. The energy could no longer force the corpse to attack, so it left."
"I see. But I'm not equipped for such a battle. This knife is all I carry."
"Then, you might consider altering that decision. Your only other option is to flee. Don't worry about that now. We go to Sanctum Mountain together. If we face the undead, I shall dispatch it, unless they're in great numbers."
"Then I'll rely upon you as well as my own senses," Ryson acknowledged. "Hopefully, I can warn us of another such monster."
"Warnings are always advantageous. Now let us move on. I would, though, make one request. Let us move through the trees. Passing from branch to branch, crossing the forest above the ground, it is how I travel."
"That will slow me down," Ryson admitted.
"I know, but it will allow me to keep pace with you. It is the quickest way for me. It is a fairly short trip to Sanctum. We might reach its base before nightfall, but if you are as gifted as the stories reveal about delvers, there is no way I can match your speed upon the ground. I have seen you move as you battled the undead; of this I'm already sure."
"If you think it’s best."
"It is indeed. The forest will take us to the edge of Sanctum. At that point we can examine the area and adjust our travel. For now, simply follow your instincts. Return your attention to the quake and its path. It will lead us westward and that is where I wish to go. Follow it as you see fit. I believe it will lead us to the mountain. If you sense anything else which calls for your attention, please inform me."
"Certainly," Ryson agreed without hesitation. Millions of questions assaulted him, questions without answers. He would not find those answers by remaining here; they waited elsewhere, perhaps within Sanctum Mountain. He could not deny what had happened to him, could not shove it into the recesses of his mind. As a delver, he needed answers, no matter how incredible. He took to the journey with no less hesitation then when he first left Connel. Without further word, the two nimble figures grasped branches overhead and disappeared into the trees.
Chapter 3
The elf and the delver moved westward. They scaled the trees with ease. They leapt from branch to branch, swung from tree to tree, and trotted deep within the pine needles and leaves. Even among the thickest grove of cedars, their pace far exceeded the normal walking speed of a human.
As they carried themselves closer to the sky, their path earned them greater sunlight. The trees themselves were full of life. Early season cherries were already ripening and berries on taller bushes waited within arms reach. The two travelers paused on several occasions to re-energize with the beckoning gifts.
As they moved about the sturdy branches, small animals appeared to enjoy their company. Birds and squirrels danced along with them. Every now and then, the delver whistled out a bird call or a chirp to a nearby chipmunk. He would smile broadly with every musical response. The sunlight, the animals, the green of Dark Spruce; all served to lift the gloom from the delver. He found the excursion invigorating, and he found his natural abilities more than capable in handling the task. He ducked in and out of the trees with amazing grace and balance. He slipped through dense clusters of branches by navigating through twisting passages. While he could have moved much faster upon the ground, he was satisfied with their pace. He was also pleased to hone his climbing skills. Indeed, he made a mental note to travel this way more often. If nothing else, it kept many of his abilities sharp.
The elf 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 sight 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 a 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."
Delver Magic Book I: Sanctum's Breach Page 5