Delver Magic Book I: Sanctum's Breach

by Jeff Ianniello

  The cliff behemoth was also not stopped, but his passing of the barrier was not without incident. Ryson's assessment of the barrier's location had been precise. It reaffirmed its existence for but a slight moment as Dzeb carried the sphere through. No longer needed to protect the path to the orb, the field crackled with a bluish purple charge. It then fizzled away, leaving only a reminiscent scent which Ryson found similar to that of striking lightning.

  Ryson threw out his hand to test the space. It passed through without hindrance, the barrier had dissolved. The tunnel now formed an unimpeded path both to and from the mountain's core. The way to the sphere's long guarded resting place was now clear, but no longer important. With but a few more steps of the cliff behemoth, Ingar's sphere would be free of Sanctum all together.

  Ryson turned and stepped lively over the last few paces. He sensed the magnitude of their deed as he moved out of the tunnel. His thoughts turned on the legends, on the mystique of Sanctum and all it represented. Now, with a cliff behemoth at his side, he would see the culmination of a quest which matched the most extravagant of these myths. Sanctum had been entered, the obstacles overcome, and the sphere removed from the most guarded of places.

  Yet, there was more, more than simply overcoming the five tiers. They had passed through deeper, stronger barriers, barriers born of fear, doubt, even intolerance. They had not simply defeated Sanctum; they had overcome the mistrust of ages. The sphere's existence outside of this monument was testament to that. Such a feat would never have been completed without the assistance of all the races; the elves, algors, humans, and even the dwarves. They would not have succeeded without the Sword of Decree or without Mappel's knowledge of the shadow trees. They would not have survived the human tier without Lauren's protection. And this moment certainly would not have been possible without the contribution of the dwarves. Tun might have held to his doubts but he led them safely through the first tier, paved the way to ultimate success. Now, a cliff behemoth and a delver saw to the last act of removal.

  In that moment of acknowledging the importance of their accomplishment, full comprehension followed. The thought of Tun dampened Ryson's exhilaration. There was a cost to be born for their success and even as Dzeb brought the talisman fully free from Sanctum, the delver began to feel as much sadness as joy.

  The remainder of his delight was shattered by the cough of his elf friend. The deep hack spurred the delver's attention away from the sphere, and as he looked upon Lief again, he wondered if they had finished paying the toll.

  Lief was becoming a hollow shell of the elf he met not so long ago. The dark circles around his eyes were forming heavy bags, while the rest of his face seemed to thin with every blink of the eye. Even as he sat upon a large stone, his legs trembled and Ryson knew it was not from the pain of the ankle sprain. The elf was gaunt now to the point much beyond the lean Mappel, so much more than when he had first entered Sanctum. The long bow across his shoulder seemed more of a heavy burden than that of a weapon which Lief might use with any conviction. Ryson wondered if Lief could even pull back upon the taught string, a conjecture which was augmented as the elf struggled weakly to his feet.

  Ryson, filled with compassion for Lief's haggard state, called for the elf to cease his struggle. "Don't get up. You need the rest."

  Lief ignored the request with his last ounce of stubbornness. "I will not rest until the sphere is destroyed. To see to that, we must reach the peak."

  "Maybe you should stay here. Let Dzeb and I go up ahead. There's no need for you to remain close to the sphere."

  "The sphere has already done its damage to me," Lief admitted with a heavy breath. "Remaining with you during this short climb will not make a difference."

  "Are you sure?" Ryson was more than slightly reluctant to let the elf accompany them. He honestly thought the climb might take the rest of Lief's strength.

  "I am sure," Lief grunted with one final burst of resolve. "I am weakened, but not over. I will see this to its end. Besides, if the poison can be washed from me, I will need the healing power of the algors."

  Ryson started to offer the alternative of letting the algors come to the elf. Lief, however, ignored the proposal.

  "Let us just hurry to the top," Lief requested with a weary voice. "The sooner it is destroyed, the better my chances of survival. Let me get on ahead of you. I need but a small distance from the sphere. After that, it makes no difference whether I stand a league or a hair from it. The poison remains in the air regardless."

  With a surprising burst of strength, Lief darted forward and up Sanctum's slope. Ryson watched with dismay as he knew this was the last ounce of power the elf would muster. He gave Lief ample time before nodding to Dzeb for them to follow.

  Ryson kept a pace which allowed Lief to maintain his distance. Only when the elf disappeared over the final ledge did Ryson increase his speed to utilize his own climbing abilities, as well as those of Dzeb. The last few paces were covered with the speed of a near sprint and the accompanying light which surrounded them announced their arrival. The radiance from his sword, increasing with the extending glow to the east, matched clear daylight upon the top of the mountain. It chased away the darkness as the weapon in his hand appeared more like a flaming torch than a finely polished sword. It brought light to all those who now stood upon Sanctum's peak and it revealed for all to see that the sphere was in Dzeb's hands.

  Most stared at the sphere in wonder, save Holli who was tending to Lief. He had crumpled to the ground in final exhaustion.

  Matthew broke the silence with a near shout of exhilaration. "Bless you, bless you both delver and cliff behemoth! And bless the powers that guided us!"

  His outburst was cut short by the angry ranting of Jon who stood over the still form of his brother. "Let us waste no more time! Give the sphere to the spirit, let her open the sphere and use the power to save my brother!"

  "Then there is hope?" Ryson turned a heartened glance toward Mappel.

  "Shayed has stated she might be able to revive the dwarf once the magic is free," Mappel replied. To this point he remained guarded, but he could not completely restrain his growing enthusiasm. "With the sphere free of Sanctum, I now believe anything is possible."

  "Life and death is the province of Godson," Dzeb remarked unshakably. His expression revealed his doubts over the matter and he made no move forward as he maintained possession of the sphere.

  While Dzeb's statement stirred reflection within the elder elf, it infuriated the younger dwarf. Jon, agitated and disturbed by Dzeb's lack of movement, darted ferociously to the cliff behemoth. He leapt in the air as he plucked it from Dzeb's hands. The dwarf struggled awkwardly with the sphere's size, but not with his intentions. He bore a direct path to the ghostly form of Shayed.

  As the apparition threw open its hands in gleeful anticipation, Ryson was nearly knocked from his feet by the staggering revelation which presented itself. The power of the sword surged through him. The very air seemed to unravel. He could not focus upon another, not even Mappel who stood by him. His attention was thrust toward the spirit that took Shayed's shape. The ghostly form turned blood red, at first with no characteristics, but soon its shape came true to him. The shaven head, wicked eyes, gnarled hands, all contrasted sharply with the soft benevolent image of Shayed. He saw clearly through the disguise and beheld the hungry visage of a maddened wizard.

  "No!" Ryson screamed. The single word echoed over and over in his mind. Despair and fear ran through him like a cold river. He watched helplessly, painfully, as Jon's movement's seemed to slow to a snail's pace, but did not falter. The dwarf never hesitated, never heeded the delver's anguished cry.

  Ryson erupted in fury as he witnessed the dwarf holding out the sphere to Ingar's greedily curling hands. The delver bolted forward, but even his tremendous speed could not erase the distance in time. He dove the last few paces, stretched out to grab the dwarf's waist, but before impact, the sphere had been passed.

  Jon was solid
, sturdy with a low center of gravity, but Ryson's momentum sent him flying. The two rolled over on the wet ground of Sanctum's peak, Jon with angry confusion, Ryson with flagrant alarm. The delver gracefully completed the roll and let the spinning motion carry him back to his feet. Jon remained in a bewildered heap, but bore a furious stare upon Ryson.

  "Are you mad?!" the dwarf roared. "Do you not want to see my brother restored to me?"

  Ryson could not answer, did not have to. The maniacal laugh of another offered a much clearer answer. Jon saw the shocked, near incoherent stare of the delver as the first clue to the scene behind his back. He turned only to witness the others staring in much the same fashion. All watched blankly at the terrifying spectacle. With a final twist of his neck, Jon finally placed his sights upon the source of the depraved exuberance and knew there was no hope for his brother, perhaps no hope for any of them.

  Ingar's disguise had vanished, no longer needed as he possessed the talisman of his own creation, the sphere of ultimate power. He stood revealed; the feigned whiteness of his spirit dissolved and was now stained by his true blood red appearance. The soft kind features of his previous mask eroded away into the deranged face of a madman. His bald head glowed hot. He laughed deeper with delight in his own malice as he now soaked in the power to carry out his twisted nightmares.

  The sphere remained beside him, a willing accomplice or perhaps dictator of these same horrific desires. He did not hold the weight of the orb. Instead, he let it levitate within his reach. While his hands remained free, a bond much like a crimson rope tied the two together. A magical union between the sphere and the baneful spirit opened the vast power to Ingar, allowed him to carry out his desires, desires which were indeed spurred by the sphere.

  If there was ever a question as to which was truly in control, whether wizard or talisman, it no longer mattered. The two were now one, linked by the bond. The sphere proved as the source of unimaginable power, the wizard was the tool.

  As if to punctuate this undeniable fact, Ingar raised his hands and unleashed the power which was now his to control. With focus on his perceived greatest threat, chains of energy five times the length and width of those he used to capture Shayed materialized. They knifed through the air with frightening speed and accuracy. They crashed upon Dzeb with an eruption of power. An explosion shook the ground, knocked many to their knees, including the cliff behemoth. The chains entwined themselves around the giant, holding him to his knees as they bound his arms and legs and anchored him to the ground.

  Ingar found such delight in his achievement, at watching Dzeb kneel before him, he grinned with boastful taunts. "I might not have been able to hold you before, cliff behemoth, but now I possess nearly all the magic in the land. Your strength is now meaningless to me. You speak of Godson's great power. There is no power greater than mine. That is why you kneel before me."

  Dzeb's gentle nature washed from him with these words. His expression turned hateful, and the calm blue of his eyes dissolved into cold hostility. He roared, and his scream filled the air like a clap of thunder, and again, the ground shook. He pulled with all his might, but he could not break the chains.

  His display merely brought more laughter from the wizard, and another wave of a crimson hand. The chains obeyed the command and lengthened as they wrapped about Dzeb's mouth.

  "We'll have no more shouts from you," Ingar said through a malicious giggle.

  "What is the meaning of this?!" Mappel was the first to respond to the confusion. He broke his sight from the captured cliff behemoth and turned it upon the depraved spirit.

  Ingar turned a spiteful glance to the elder elf. "Do you not recognize me? You, oh great and wise elf. You who are so arrogant that you believe you can explain things beyond your knowledge. If you are so wise in the way of the legends, how is it you were unable to tell the difference between a weak sorceress and the mighty Ingar?"

  Mappel blinked as he repeated the name in a whisper. He could not be certain of this, he had never witnessed Ingar and there were only meager descriptions. He could only speculate. What was before him appeared as a spirit mad with power. There was little else in the way of an explanation, yet it was not possible.

  Ingar found only more joy in Mappel's reaction. He sought to add to the elf's despair. "You have doubts, but you had no doubts as to Shayed's return. You believed her capable of returning, why not Ingar? Do you truly think her superior to me? You have spoke so highly of Shayed, climbed all the way up to meet her as if she was some goddess. She is nothing."

  Another wave of a hand and Shayed now stood revealed. Ingar removed the power that blocked her from the sight of the others but did not remove the bonds that held her. She floated helplessly, unable to lift her arms, unable to escape from the scarlet prison which surrounded her.

  "Look upon the sorceress you believed so powerful. She was nothing to me before. She is even less than that now. Let your doubts fade, pathetic creature. I am Ingar, and I have returned to claim what is rightfully mine."

  Nearly every set of eyes fell upon the captured spirit of Shayed. Only Holli ignored the spectacle. The elf guard's mind raced with devising alternatives of attack. She found little hope to cling to. She had no experience in dealing with magical foes, and no idea of how to attack the ghost of an insane wizard. She immediately discounted all standard forms of defense. He was not of material form and her arrows would pass through him. Only one plausible course of action came to mind. If she could not attack the wizard directly, perhaps she could distract him.

  She crouched low and moved with stealth and silence to the ledge of the platform behind her. Sinking low to the ground, she kicked at a pile of loose rocks. The debris scattered and tumbled over the ledge. As the tumbling rocks fell upon other loose dirt, the small commotion soon turned into a minor avalanche. With the resounding crash of rocks calling for attention, she leapt behind another set of boulders behind Ingar and away from everyone else.

  The avalanche failed to achieve its desired effect. While it called for attention, added to the disorientation of the passing events, it did not faze the wizard. Ingar scoffed as he addressed the rocks where Holli hid.

  "Do you truly believe I do not sense your useless attempts, elf?" Ingar bore a harsh glance towards Holli as he ignored the rumbling of falling rocks. "If you believe such mundane tricks are of any value, then you must be taught a lesson."

  Again, Holli considered the situation. Her foe was aware of her tactics and sounded ready to strike. She stepped confidently out from behind the rock and faced Ingar defiantly. If she must die to give the rest a chance, so be it. It was simply what she was trained for. Her bravery, however, was lost upon the magic caster.

  "You insult me," Ingar snarled. "You are an insignificant ant. Destroying you is a waste of even the most miniscule portion of my power, but I do wish to hurt you." He paused, and a devious grin curled upon his transparent lips. "I know you, elf, I know what it is that drives you. Your own death would mean nothing to you, but what of the death of another, the death of one you are supposed to protect."

  He kept his blood red eyes fixed upon the elf guard, but his hand waved toward Mappel. This time there was no bolt of power, no explosion or clap of thunder, no fanfare at all for the deed which would eradicate Mappel. The elder elf simply disintegrated into gray dust.

  For Holli, for Ryson, for them all; the very air seemed to quiver. Reality unraveled, scattered through the air like pollen on a windy day. No one could speak, no one could cry. Denial ruled. What they saw was not possible. Mappel was gone, destroyed with the mere wave of one hand. As the elder elf formed the anchor which held them together, those that remained upon Sanctum, aghast and dispirited, were now all cut loose to the wild insanity they faced. Vacant stares filled their faces. Their trials, their successes, their promises to each other; everything fell into the dust of Mappel's remains.

  Ingar spoke slowly, viciously adding to their disorientation. His words hummed with mesmerizing effect, eat
ing at their very wills. He spoke directly at Holli, but his voice tore at them all. "He is dead. I have taken everything he was from you. And you, you that were supposed to protect him could do nothing to stop me. I could do the same to your brother elf that lies upon the ground, but I will let the poison in his veins kill him slowly. I will let you watch. Besides, there are others here you have vowed to protect."

  A shout filled with vengeance finally erupted in the air. It broke the stunned stupor bought upon by Mappel's end. The words held strength as well as anger, but they came not from the elf guard.

  "Coward! Pathetic coward! Craven, misguided bully. What have you proved, that you can catch goldfish trapped in a small bowl?"

  "Eh?" Ingar turned to the source of the insults. His eyes filled with interest as he beheld the staunch expression of Lauren. "Might this be a true challenge?"

  "I challenge nothing but your arrogance. Any cat can catch a mouse, that is all you prove on this day."

  "And what of you? Are you also a cat, sorceress?"

  "I claim nothing other than your cowardice."

  "Then I shall prove my power against you." With more of a dramatic flare, Ingar threw his arms out and up over his head. A ring of red power encircled his hands. It swirled swiftly, tumultuously, in the shape of a perfect circle. His eyes widened with insane exultation. He opened his mouth wide to laugh with the intoxication of power. In a fit of glee, he clamped his hands together and wrought his arms toward the human sorceress.

  The fiery ring flew through the air. It continued to spin as it jettisoned itself free of Ingar. It sped with deadly intentions towards its predefined victim.

  In a surge of defiance, Lauren welcomed the controlled surge of magical energy. She raised her own hands, her palms pressed outward and like magnets they drew in the glowing red fire. She absorbed every ounce. Her fingers crackled with the power which changed from red to orange, then to blue and finally to deep purple. She refocused the force. It soon encompassed her own hands. For her, though, it formed the four points of a diamond. As Ingar had cast it at her, she hurled it back at him.