Delver Magic Book VII: Altered Messages

by Inlo, Jeff

  It wasn't his magical spell that alerted Pru to the appearance of the dwarf guards. Dwarves were magically resistant and the half-delver's spell failed to detect the stout warriors. He spotted them with his sharp eyesight before he himself was seen. He pulled to a halt and used a large pine tree to hide his presence from the sentries.

  Trying to comprehend the situation, Pru gauged the direction of Okyiq's path from his secured position. He could see that the goblin's footprints created a trail directly toward the dwarves. The dwarves, however, showed no sign of concern. They were simply mulling about.

  Nothing made sense. Pru couldn't understand why a goblin would wish to head directly toward dwarf guards. Even more perplexing, the sentries appeared totally unfazed by the situation. They couldn't have missed the goblin, and even if they had already subdued Okyiq, Pru would have expected greater signs of alert or at least some indication of a light struggle. To the half-delver's amazement, the dwarves appeared totally disinterested in their surroundings.

  Pru was baffled. With nothing left to lose and no where else to turn, the half-delver called out to the sentries.

  #

  The gluuns received the message through a magical link established by the serps before they were sent to Dark Spruce Forest. They knew it was time to free the elf.

  They crept out of the empty cell and moved silently to the only occupied chamber in the dank dungeon. The dwarf guard who manned the prison post had not yet returned from a scheduled patrol, and so, the gluuns could move through the corridors without worry. The iron door was locked, and even though the gluuns could have easily picked it, they did not wish to waste the effort. There was a small opening at the bottom of the iron slab which allowed for the passage of food and water buckets. It was too small for even a thin goblin to pass through, but not for a gluun.

  One at a time, the stealthy creatures slipped through the opening and into the cell of Petiole the elf. The gluuns remained invisible as they took their first clear look upon the disheveled form.

  The elf appeared aged and worn, washed out from the emptiness of his cell and the bitterness over his punishment. His eyes lacked any spark and the wrinkled skin sagged around his cheeks. He moved around the cell in slow, shuffling steps, walking the same circular path over and over again.

  "Petiole?" one of the gluuns whispered.

  The elf stopped and turned to face the door. He saw nothing at the small opening and wondered why a dwarf guard would call for him. Out of an unwillingness to respond to his captors, he remained quiet.

  "Petiole, we are here to free you."

  The elf heard the voice with greater distinction and knew it came from within his cell. Petiole's head swiveled about, looking from one corner of darkness to the next. His elf eyes saw nothing but barren rock.

  "So, I'm finally hearing voices," the elf replied to himself with just a hint of a smile. "I wondered when that would start. Took longer than I thought."

  "You are not simply hearing empty voices. There are gluuns with you now. Do you know what a gluun is?"

  Petiole broke out into an old elf folk song,

  "You can't see a gluun,

  but they can see you.

  Cover 'em with dust,

  They'll put up a fuss.

  Throw 'em in a sack.

  They'll never come back."

  The elf did not sing with joy. There was no lyrical or even whimsical grace to the tune. He spat out the words as if he was reprising some ancient battle song, and he growled like an angry badger at the end of each line.

  "He is mad," one of the other gluuns remarked.

  "We were told to expect as much. It changes nothing." The gluun returned its attention to the old elf. "Do you wish to see the light of day again?"

  Petiole looked up at the rock ceiling over his head. When he was first imprisoned, he imagined when and from where the sun would rise. He tried using his meals as indicators for the time of day. Eventually, the darkness won and he stopped caring whether it was light or dark outside. Still, the thought of daylight brought a small spark of hope to the old elf, hope that had been long extinguished.

  "Daylight?"

  "Yes, we are here to free you."

  The concept of freedom pressed away the lingering spark of hope. From the first day Petiole entered the dungeon, he knew escape was impossible. Dwarves were not only resistant to magic, they never trusted it. They built their underground cities to deflect and stifle the energy. They used stone, metal and gems to absorb, reflect and defy magical spells. Their jails were constructed with even greater resistance. He felt the oppression when they threw him in his cell.

  Petiole was elf and there was magic within him, but he could not use it in any fashion. He was not strong enough to overcome the burdens placed upon the magic through dwarf construction. Magic was useless, as was his elf heritage.

  "No freedom," Petiole muttered and then began pacing the cell again, his elf shoes tracing the well worn path in the rock. "Just voices in my head, trying to ruin everything. No hope, no magic... no freedom."

  "There is magic," the gluun countered, "enough to free you. We have brought enchanted stones with us. They contain enough magic to free us all from this place."

  With that said, each gluun placed a stone in the middle of the cell, forming four points of a square. The four rocks did not glow, did not appear as anything other than simple stones from a riverbed.

  When the rocks were removed from the gluuns' possession and left upon the cell floor, Petiole could finally see them. He stopped his pacing and stared at the stones he knew did not belong in his dwarf prison. He had been in his cell for so long with nothing to do, he had memorized every curve of the surrounding rock and every loose pebble. He could not ignore the sudden appearance of something even so ordinary as a handful of stones.

  "Stand in the middle of the square created and they will send you to freedom," one of the gluuns advised.

  Petiole did not move. He could not deny the appearance of the stones, but his thoughts became engulfed with torments of the past. He relived seemingly ancient arguments with Lief Woodson and the council of elders. Images from twisted nightmares danced in his head. He remembered the faces of the elves that guided him in chains to the dwarf sentries at Dunop's entrance. He felt weakness in his knees and he wished for a staff to support his feeble frame. The thought of a staff brought back more memories, the face of Mappel, the elder he succeeded to lead the elf camp... the legend he could never replace. He started to laugh and cry at the same time.

  Despite Petiole's meager frame, even four gluuns would not have been able to move him into position if he resisted. They needed him to move of his own free will and they were suddenly running out of time.

  "This is your only chance," one of the gluuns whispered. "Take it now before it's too late. You can return to the forest."

  "Return?" Petiole hissed. "Return to what?"

  "You prefer darkness?"

  "Over what? What am I going back to?"

  One of the gluuns saw the sheer hostility and tried to invoke even greater anger in the elf, add incentive to the idea of escaping the dwarves.

  "Take vengeance on those who betrayed you. Laugh at the dwarves who thought you were their prisoner."

  Had the gluuns made the offer when Petiole was first imprisoned, he would have eagerly sought escape. He was vindictive once, would have leapt at the chance to get even with those who questioned his leadership. There would have been no hesitation.

  But Petiole had sank into something beyond despair. He still had his anger, but he had lost control. He was no longer a leader of anything, no longer the center of his camp's destiny. It was not dementia that took hold of his mind, for he could remember everything. It was frustration above all else; the kind of frustration that bred contempt for life, contempt for existence.

  Vengeance required purpose, and Petiole had lost his in the shadows of his cell. A quest for revenge could not motivate the elf to step forward. He revealed
the truths that tortured him.

  "I do not have to leave to laugh at dwarves. I laugh at them here. I laugh at them all. And they still don't care."

  "You can make them care."

  "No, they won't. They have all forgotten me."

  As time was quickly fading, one gluun finally struck the proper chord.

  "Then forget them. Step into the square and be done with all of them. They have discarded you. You can do the same. All you have to do is leave them."

  "Leave?"

  It was a simple question, tinged with neither hope nor anger. Instead, it held a deeper desire, a wish to escape everything, to withdraw.

  The gluun that had made the final proposal realized he had finally found the proper motivation.

  "Yes, leave! Walk into the square and prove your worth. Let them know you can forget them as easily as they have forgotten you. Free yourself from every concern, and at the same time, show every dwarf and every elf that you are beyond them all. You can leave, but you must go now."

  Without another word, Petiole stepped into the center of the square as outlined by the four enchanted stones. He started to drop to his knees, but before they could touch the ground, he disappeared, as if a curtain made of shadow was pulled around him.

  "We must all leave now," the lead gluun advised, and one by one the gluuns entered the space between the four stones and vanished in a similar manner.

  When the last gluun was teleported from the cave, each rock exploded. A flash of lightning lit up the entire block of cells and a blast of fury blew the door from its iron hinges. A rumble of thunder rocked the very foundation of the dwarf palace, and the trembling of stone could be felt at its highest tower.

  Dwarf guards stormed into the dungeon and raced to the site of the blast. No one was hurt, but they knew the elf who had once unleashed shadow tree seeds upon their city had escaped.

  #

  Pru could not understand how the dwarves could not see the tracks. They led right into the access tunnel and were obviously the footprints of the large goblin he had followed through Dark Spruce Forest.

  "They're right there," the half-delver exclaimed as he pointed to the ground at the mouth of the cave.

  The two dwarves looked at the ground, then at each other, and finally back at the half-delver who was, to their ears, weaving a strange tale. They both wore expressions of weary annoyance.

  It was no secret; they hated guard duty, especially patrols at entrances to access tunnels. The caves were all well hidden in heavy brush. Very few knew of the tunnel's existence. Elves knew about the main entrances, but they also knew not to enter unless they were invited.

  The only real threat was a bloat spider trying to cast a web around the entrance or a shag seeking a new den, but dissuading such mindless dark creatures was a thankless task. Unfortunately, the growing relations with humans led to other trials. It suddenly seemed dwarf sentries needed to deal with insane half-delvers as well.

  One of the dwarves questioned the entire story.

  "You say a large goblin ran through the forest at a speed that matches your own—and you are half-delver—passed right by us, and into the cave?"

  "That's right."

  "And you can see the tracks right here... on the ground before me?"

  "They're right there. Can't you see them?"

  "I see nothing," the dwarf revealed with a stern expression.

  Pru looked to the second dwarf.

  "What about you?"

  "Nothing there," the second dwarf grumbled.

  "And we saw no goblin enter our cave," the first dwarf added.

  "Maybe you were looking in the wrong direction."

  That assumption drew an unhappy snarl.

  "Are you stating we are so incompetent we would not notice a goblin of unusual size racing toward our position?"

  "You said you didn't see him."

  "We also don't see the tracks that are not there. Have you been downing the ale a bit heavily, half-delver?"

  "You think I'm drunk?"

  "I'm not sure what you are, but there are no goblin footprints on this ground."

  Pru could not understand it. He could see the tracks as clear as day and they led directly into the tunnel to Dunop.

  "Look, maybe you think I'm drunk... or even crazy, but will you at least let me follow the tracks to see where they lead? I think the goblin was using some kind of magic. Maybe that explains why you can't see anything. I think it explains why he was able to stay ahead of me."

  "Even with magic, a goblin would not be able to enter Dunop unnoticed through this tunnel. We are aware of the tricks of magic, and we have devised ways to deal with it."

  "Maybe he's still in the tunnel." Pru offered. "It's worth checking, isn't it? I'll tell you what; I'll leave my crossbow and hunting sword here. I'll be unarmed. You can escort me. Actually, I'll need you, because I'm not going in there alone without a weapon. I think he's still in there."

  The sentries did not know why the half-delver wished to follow a trail that did not exist, but the degree with which the he pleaded his case surprised the dwarf guards. They agreed to his request, but only one would follow Pru into the cave. The second guard remained at the entrance, alert for any new surprises.

  The dwarf escort allowed the half-delver to lead the way. He could not understand what Pru was looking at as the ground remained clear of any foreign tracks.

  Pru moved slowly down the tunnel. He sniffed the air and listened intently for signs of the half-goblin. He sensed nothing and his surprise expanded when the goblin tracks ended before they had even begun to descend into the depths of the deepening tunnel.

  The dwarf noticed the half-delver's alarm.

  "Something wrong?"

  "The tracks end here."

  "The tracks I can't see?"

  Frustration was beginning to bubble over for Pru.

  "Yeah, the one's you can't see! They stop here."

  "Do you see a goblin here that I cannot see?"

  "No, I don't!"

  Pru dropped to the ground and inspected the tracks with both his eyes and his hands. He could see great detail in the footprints, but his fingers could not detect the hollows or edges of the tracks. He could feel moisture in the ground, but nothing else. He realized the trail was nothing more than an illusion.

  "It's a trick."

  "You are admitting this is all some kind of game?" the wary dwarf questioned with growing impatience and annoyance.

  "No, no... that's not what I mean. The tracks are an illusion. They're not real."

  "Of course they're not real, they're not even there."

  "You don't understand. You weren't meant to see them... only I was. But it couldn't have all been an illusion. The tracks in the forest were real. I know that. The illusion must have started before the cave."

  "Are you saying there is no goblin?"

  "No! There is a goblin, but I don't know where he went anymore. This trail is fake. I have to go back and see if I can find if there's a new trail somewhere around here."

  The dwarf was willing to oblige and almost began to escort the half-delver back to the forest when a group of dwarf soldiers rushed up the tunnel from Dunop.

  "What is going on?" the dwarf sentry demanded.

  "All entrances are to be sealed," the lead soldier shouted. "No one gets in and no one gets out. The elf has escaped."

  The dwarf soldier running up the tunnel did not need to reveal the name of the elf. Every dwarf in Dunop knew there was only one elf prisoner within the city. The dwarf sentry immediately recognized the severity of the situation. He took hold of Pru's arm with an iron grip. He would not give the half-delver a chance to escape. There were suddenly too many questions... and answers were required.

  "You need to come with me!" the dwarf guard said to Pru.

  It was not a polite request. It was an absolute demand.

  Chapter 5

  When Pru was brought through Dunop, every fiber of his delver half yearned to ru
n off and investigate the amazing city. The collection of stone edifices filled him with awe. He had previously explored caves filled with natural wonders, but he had never before seen such sculptured strength. He could almost feel the rock bending to the will of dwarf construction. He would have loved nothing more than to race around the underground streets and examine every section of the city, to feel the stone and inspect every structure from foundation to rooftop.

  Despite Pru's strong desires, his predicament kept him from rushing off on any spontaneous exploration. A quartet of dwarf soldiers walked with him, surrounded him. He was not being offered some guided tour or a pleasant stroll through the glorious city. His steps were determined by the dwarves, and his escorts directed him toward their own objective with absolute certainty.

  The dwarves marched with stone-faced intent and they meant to keep Pru within their midst. They were not physically abusive, or even disrespectful. The sentry that Pru first encountered even released his hold of the half-delver, allowed Pru to walk freely, but the surrounding warriors made it clear he was not to make any sudden moves or attempt to escape.

  Initially, Pru considered making a dash for an exit, but decided against it. While dwarves could not match his speed, they were surprisingly quick, especially with their weapons. He knew he could outmaneuver them and certainly outrace them, but Pru was not as confident he could dodge any number of throwing hatchets. Until he knew more of what was happening, racing away—whether to explore or to escape—wasn't worth the gamble.

  His delver half might have been filled with curiosity, but his human side became inundated with worry. A grim uneasiness pulsated from every dwarf he passed. Rumors of an event were spreading fast. He could sense it. He heard it in a few whispers and saw it in the disconcerted expressions of each dwarf. He knew someone of importance had escaped, knew it was an elf, but he did not know the full story behind Petiole.

  The name wasn't totally foreign to him. He had heard accounts of the elf, but they were mostly from human taverns. Petiole was accused of trying to wipe out the entire race of dwarves, but stories from inns weren't always the most reliable. He had always thought it might have been nothing more than a minor misunderstanding blown out of proportion. Tales from taverns tended to be that way.