by Inlo, Jeff
She did not have her bow, only a battle blade. It was an excellent weapon to face an oversized goblin in a small room, but it would not be enough to hold off a horde of goblins once they broke through the spell barrier. It might have been the only weapon available, but she had studied the small house with her sight spell before she arrived in Burbon. Okyiq selected it to give himself a chance he never really had, but it was an excellent environment to hold off the horde, at least for a little while. Still, Holli would have to use other resources to gain the time she needed.
Reassessing the room for the next stage of battle, she moved quickly to take advantage of every possible item. Immediately, she rolled Okyiq's large body to the foot of the door. It would serve as an exceptional obstacle for anything trying to enter.
Hoping to fill open spaces in order to keep the horde from swarming her in one massive wave, she pulled the small desk and dresser away from the wall and knocked them over in the center of the room. She placed the mattress from the cot across the window and then jammed the bed frame and chair against the back wall to create a defensible fall back position she could leap to when she was finally able to teleport away.
She backed herself in the corner closest to the door and away from the only window. She believed a shag would probably break through first. If she killed it quickly, its body would fall near Okyiq's and create another obstacle to help block the only entrance. The small width of the door and the limited space within the room would work to her advantage. If she could keep the goblins concerned for their own lives, they would be reluctant to enter.
The window, however, was more of a problem. The hook hawks and bloat spiders would not be able to fit through the frame, but goblins would fire their bows at any opening. The mattress would initially deflect and absorb most of the assault, but it would eventually fall apart under any massive barrage. She also knew the goblins would fire at her through the door when they decided it was unsafe to enter. There was no way to avoid a crossfire, but if she remained in the corner, she could limit its effectiveness.
After taking one deep breath and readying her blade, she focused on collecting as much magic as possible, trying to accelerate the process. She hoped the spell that sealed the room would hold for a few moments longer, but any optimism in that regard died when she saw a glimmer of emerald energy fall away from the ceiling. She knew her spell had faded.
Instantly, the door split in two as a giant fist covered in thick brown, matted hair burst through the wood. A large shag pressed against the broken slats that hung from the hinges and stuck to the frame. The monster faced a difficult time fitting through the restricted entranceway, and it roared in fury as it smashed away at the broken door.
Holli could not believe her luck. The beast was enormous, larger than she ever have dared hope. If she could kill the it in the doorway, the goblins behind it would have to struggle mightily to push it out of their way. She readied her blade and leapt for the shag, targeting its vulnerable throat.
Just as the elf thrust her blade forward, a flash of white energy exploded around her. The room disappeared, and in an instant, she landed on the floor of Enin's study. She kept her composure as she immediately surveyed her surroundings. She knew she was back in the wizard's home in Connel. She was safe, but confused.
She looked to the large oak desk and saw Enin standing behind it with several of his beloved dogs. The animals ran happily over to greet her. She quickly sheathed her blade, acknowledged each hairy muzzle, but then turned a questioning glance toward the wizard.
"I thought you were not supposed to get involved?" the elf asked.
"Involved?" Enin responded almost angrily, but his hostility appeared to be directed at someone other than the elf. "Are you implying that I might have interfered with the serps' plans? I did nothing of the sort. I simply teleported you to where you belonged."
Holli didn't wish to argue, and there was truth in the wizard's simple explanation, but she couldn't help addressing the broader view of the matter.
"I think it is fairly clear the serps planned to kill me. By teleporting me out of Burbon, you interfered with those plans."
"You're only looking at one side of the story," Enin asserted with a sharp tone. "It's true I agreed to steer clear of their manipulations, but I also made it clear to the serps that I would protect the city—that means protecting its citizens. Whether you wish to acknowledge it or not, you are a citizen of Connel, just as I am. This is your home. I acted appropriately when I teleported you here."
Holli could sense that Enin was speaking to more than just her. She knew he was defining, as well as defending, his actions to others who might take issue with his decision.
"I assume the serps can actually hear you right now," the elf guessed.
"Yes, they can, and if you are inferring that I'm sending them a message, you're right! I didn't send you to kill Okyiq. You went on your own. I did not break my word about not interfering. The serps should know that. Once you killed the goblin, I viewed you as being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I corrected that. What the serps' plan might have been for you is irrelevant. Again, I did not break any vow I made. If anything, I stood by my contention to protect Connel and its citizens."
"I am grateful, but have you risked too much?"
Enin shook his head.
"I haven't risked anything. If the serps view my actions as interfering with their plans when all I did was remove you from Burbon, then that's their problem, not mine. If they decide to try and attack Connel or turn Bol over to the algors because of that, I will not be happy, and I will make sure they come to appreciate that fact. They made it very clear I should allow others to make their own decisions. I did that with you. I also made my own decision to ensure your safety. That is what the serps should remember. They should also realize my patience has a limit."
Holli believed the message would be received by the serp council. She could see the resolve in the wizard's expression and hear the anger in his voice. She was certain the serps could feel that same determination through the magic that connected them. If they felt it necessary to rebuke Enin for saving her, it would be a miscalculation of epic proportions.
She then thought of what they might do if they made such a mistake. The serps had originally threatened Enin with destroying Connel or starting a war between the algors and the dwarves. She knew Enin could protect Connel, but the algors were another matter.
The elf could not help but wonder if Ryson and Jure had made any progress of their own. If they had located Bol Folarok and taken him to the Lacobian Desert, it wouldn't matter what the serps planned to do. Whether or not a conflict arose between the algors and the dwarves would be beyond the influence of the serps and in the hands of the delver.
Chapter 27
Ryson, Jure, and Bol appeared in the desert sands at the base of a large boulder. A wide expanse of level and compacted sand stretched out before them, but surrounding dunes concealed their position. They were out of sight from the sandstone cliffs and there were no algors in the immediate vicinity.
The environment differed greatly from the cool, dark cavern they left behind. The change in temperature was drastic, and the hot dry wind that hit them in the face felt as if they had jumped into an open pit of fire. Bol was forced to cover his eyes as the bright sunlight beat off the surrounding sand.
Ryson noticed Bol's discomfort and quickly made a request of the wizard.
"Can you help him with the sun?"
Jure nodded and cast a spell of shadow that fell over the dwarf. Bol grunted with what sounded like a word of thanks, but the wizard couldn't be certain.
With the dwarf able to see across the desert, Ryson pointed to the wide expanse of sand. He wanted Bol to understand the magnitude of the algor loss, and he hoped the size of the burial site would open the dwarf's eyes... and potentially his heart.
"Do you see all this flattened sand?" Ryson asked of the dwarf. "Do you know what this is? It's a mass grave. This is
where the algors buried their dead. Every algor here was killed by a dwarf warrior."
The dwarf glanced across the sandy surface, but the size of the burial ground remained inconsequential in both his mind and his heart.
"So you wish to begin with the same argument we had in the cave?" Bol countered. "You believe I am responsible for a battle for which I was not present and during a time when I was not king. Why must you..."
"That's my point," Ryson interrupted. "You just said you weren't king, but you were, in a way you still are. You seem to think you can just walk away from all of this. You can't. The algors know you were the leader of Dunop. It doesn't matter to them why or how you gave up the crown. The only thing that matters to them is that after you walked away, they were attacked. The moment you abdicated the throne, you paved the way for the separatists to take over. Can't you understand that?"
"Fah, your claim is baseless. You make it sound as if I gave the order."
"You're not listening to me. We all know that it was your wife Yave who wanted to attack the algors. That's not the point. We're looking at your role in this. You're the one that just gave up your authority. Doesn't that count for something with you? It should, because it matters to the algors."
"So now you blame me for abdicating? How does that connect me to events that occurred after I left Dunop?"
"Because you knew what was going to happen... or you should have known. Are you going to tell me you didn't know what your wife wanted to do? We both know that's nonsense."
Bol snickered with disgust
"Even if I did, what would it matter? Your claim is only relevant if I could have prevented Yave's rise to power. I might have taken the initiative to leave Dunop, but I never had a choice. Whether I wanted to leave or not, it would have happened eventually."
"How do you know?"
Bol grew angry and his expression grew darker than the shadow that protected his eyes from the harsh light.
"Because I had lost the respect of every dwarf in Dunop," he growled.
Ryson would not accept that weak excuse.
"Did you lose it or did you throw it away? You turned your back on your city—on all the dwarves—when they needed you the most. Because of your decision, the separatists took power. I realize that it was Yave who wanted to attack the algors, but you knew what she wanted. You could have tried to stop her, but you just left. You can hide from that all you want, but it's the truth and you know it."
"Fah, what do you know about the truth. Were you there?"
"Yes, I was, after you left. I went to Dunop to try and stop it all. I saw your son Jon. He had withdrawn from everything. He was a shell. You dropped everything upon him and he couldn't handle it. When you gave up the throne, he was left to lead, but the turmoil was too much for him. Your wife—his own mother—turned against him. It was too much for him to take. When Yave took control of the throne, the separatists were more than happy to appease her to consolidate their control over Dunop. That's how it all started. That's what led to the massacre of the algors who are buried here."
"Leave my son out of this," Bol growled.
"Why? Because you're starting to feel guilty? You want to pretend that you had nothing to do with what happened... whether it was in Dunop or out here in the desert. In those sandstone cliffs behind us, dwarf warriors from Dunop attacked the algors. They were merciless. Look across this portion of the desert. Look at how wide it is. It needed to be that large to hold all the corpses. That's how many algors died in the attack."
Once more, Bol looked out at the sand and grunted. He had grown weary of hearing the delver's accusations, and he pointed to the lifeless ground with indifference.
"Is this how you hope to change my mind? By showing me a piece of desert?"
Ryson exhaled heavily in disgust, but he realized Bol was right. The exiled king was going to hold his ground. The delver wasn't going to get through to the dwarf by just showing him empty sand. He turned to Jure with a grim request.
"We need for him to see what's down there. I know you can use your magic to bring the remains up to the surface. The serps managed to do that not too long ago, but I don't want to do it that way. I don't want to disturb the dead again, but he needs to see it. What can you do?"
"He's a dwarf. He's at home in tunnels," Jure responded simply. "Leave it to me."
Jure looked deep into the sand, but not with his eyes. He allowed the magic to bring his consciousness far below the surface. He focused on meager hints of transition as he searched the sand. He could sense the bare traces of alteration layered within the desert. It was more than the decomposition of physical remains. The slight tremor of transformation contained the memory of a large transfer of souls from one realm to another. There would be no spiritual essence trapped in the ground, just hollow husks, but the wizard knew there would be an echo of passage.
Latching on to the past vibrations, Jure found the bodies with ease. Remnants of the algors' physical existence were scattered deep within the sand, but he could pinpoint them with the aid of the energy that coursed through his own essence. He let the magic set a path below the surface and then prepared a spell to follow its trail.
Bringing his hands together, a white circle formed at his wrists. He thought of a small twister, very intense but very controlled. He whispered a few words and let the magical ring slide off his arms. It tumbled across the sand until it reached the center of the flattened plane.
The wind began to swirl about the circle of energy. Faster and faster it raged, but it grew no larger than the body of a shag. The sand began to mix with the miniature twister, turning it tan in color and rough in substance. The violent churn of magic bit into the ground and quickly burrowed out of sight.
Very little dust rose up from the deepening tunnel and the ground remained surprisingly calm. Only Ryson could sense the slight trembles below the surface, but the delver could not guess how deep the small tornado traveled.
Bol looked across the desert with growing suspicion.
"What are you up to, wizard?"
"Ryson wants you to get a better look at what you caused," Jure replied. "I'm going to make that happen."
Just as Ryson felt the small tremors subside, the wizard announced the completion of his spell.
"It's all set. It's safe to go down there."
Ryson looked to Bol.
"You keep saying you're not responsible. If that's the case, then you'll have no problem with taking a look, will you?"
"Fah," Bol growled with a scowl, and the dwarf set out across the desert toward the new hole in the ground.
Jure's magical twister dug the tunnel with a steep decline into the sand, but it was possible for all three of them to walk the path. The wizard cast a minor light spell for his own benefit. He knew the delver and the dwarf could see just fine in the dark tunnel, but he needed a bit of assistance.
After a few twists and turns, the tunnel flattened out to a level span. There were hundreds of chambers and passages branching off the main corridor. The three walked somberly past piles and piles of bones and corpses.
As the number of algor remains mounted, Ryson could sense Bol stiffening. He believed he was finally getting through to the stubborn dwarf, and he wished to finally break the hardened heart of the exiled king.
"Do you see this? This is what happened. Look at them all."
"I see them," Bol grunted.
They grew quiet as they continued to walk through the underground channel. The remnants of violent death weighed upon them all and made each step forward a difficult burden.
The grim journey took the greatest toll on the delver. He still retained his connection to the algors, still felt the pull of their community. Ryson remembered when the algor victims were first buried. He had joined the algors in a ceremony of grief. He began to feel the same overwhelming sorrow crush his spirit. He didn't know how long he could take the growing distress, but he believed they had seen sufficient proof to alter Bol's attitude.
Bol swallowed hard, but then revealed an angry expression of his own.
"I see it was a terrible tragedy. I don't deny it, but when will you understand that I am not responsible for this?!"
"You still don't get it, do you? This isn't just about blame. There's something much larger at stake here then a single massacre. The serps are using the algor suffering. They're trying to cause even greater conflict. You're the key to their manipulations, but you want to pretend you're completely innocent. I'm not saying you swung the axe or the mace, but you had a part to play. That's what I'm saying."
Bol exploded. Seeing the remains might not have brought him sympathy for the algors, but it did affect him. He could not ignore the signs of death all around him, and it reminded him of his own loss.
"You keep talking about algor suffering. What about my suffering? I had two sons. You talk about how Jon collapsed from too much responsibility. What about Tun? What about how he died in the pit of Sanctum Mountain? Did you hear me, delver?! My son died!"
Ryson would not let Bol's outburst sway him from his intended course. He did not wish to torture the dwarf, but he could not forget his ultimate purpose.
"And I can't tell you how sorry I am that happened. No one should have to deal with that kind of suffering. No one! Which is exactly what I'm trying to say to you. The algors faced the same kind of anguish!"
"And you think showing me the bones of the dead will some how convince me the algor loss equals my own?"
"I'm not trying to compare them. I'm hoping to get you to understand what happened to the algors and how the serps are using you to torment them. I don't want to make this about blame. I want it to be about understanding and compassion, but you just won't accept that."