by Jeff Inlo
Chapter 2
Before the magic, before the breach in Sanctum, a delver could seek out the wilderness for untold days. There was little to fear. The challenge was in uncovering the secrets of the land, not in avoiding danger. The greatest threat was the weather, or an occasional wild animal, perhaps a bear or a wolf. No real challenge for a delver. But that was then, and things were different since the destruction of the sphere.
Ryson Acumen, the delver responsible for saving the land from Ingar and his talisman, and just as responsible for the subsequent release of the magic, faced these changes every day. The danger of dealing with the unknown, of dealing with dark creatures, and of dealing with magical mutations was now his to assume. He could not ignore these things, and he could certainly not avoid them. His instincts, his desires, forced him into the wilderness, forced him into the peril. He would not disregard his feelings. He could not; he was a delver.
The call was indeed strong, so many shifts in the land. He thirsted to uncover them all, all of the new secrets created by the magic. With each exploration, he was never disappointed. He found subtle alterations in the ground, in the brush, even in the wind. The magical energy that had spilled out of the sphere seemed determined to make its mark upon every inch of Uton, and though these changes offered much for an exploring delver, they also created new evil.
The signs of bizarre and deadly threats manifested themselves in different ways. Each time he scouted the land, each time he explored territory he thought he knew, he found signs of creatures difficult to imagine. Dark creatures long absent from Uton and unable to exist without the free flowing magic were now returning. These were creatures out of nightmares.
Monsters.
Their descriptions would have been considered the delusions of the insane had the creatures themselves not made their presence so notable. Shags, goblins, and river rogues felt no inhibition in attacking and killing the other inhabitants of the land. Though these creatures had returned to Uton less than a full cycle ago, they already made their mark in the form of hundreds of victims.
On this day, late in the season of harvest, Ryson continued a scout of the hills surrounding his newly adopted home town of Burbon. He surveyed the crest of a small rolling hill. He looked upon the ground with dismay as markings within the soil revealed unpleasant news.
"Shag tracks," he noted to himself. "They get closer to the wall every day."
His hand tested the depth of a single foot print and the hardness of the ground. "He's a big boy," he grimaced as he looked around for fresher signs. He calculated these tracks to be made the previous night, but there was nothing around which signaled immediate danger. The hill grass was growing tall. It could hide a large shag if it stayed belly to the ground, but not if it stood to move, certainly not one this large.
"I wonder what it was doing up here?" Ryson questioned. He carefully followed the trail, and mimicked the motions he attributed to each track.
"Small steps. A kneel here at the edge. It must have been hunting. But what was it after?"
The delver stretched his neck as he stood on tiptoes and surveyed the rolling hillsides. His eyes immediately focused upon depressions in the grass.
Without hesitation, he glided down the hillside toward the markings. His own legs left barely a trace in the tall thicket. Light steps lifted and dropped among the tall strands with careful grace, moving them aside with the same gentle precision of a warm southern breeze. When he reached his objective, the true wind shuffled the field back to its natural order. The best of trackers would not have found his path.
Ryson remained alert with both ear and nose as his eyes traced across the older depressions in the grass. Tall strands were pushed out of the way carelessly. They even showed cuts, signs of short swords being used to hack through the thick brush. Ryson had seen these signs before as well.
"Goblins again," he whispered.
The signs were unmistakable, including small footprints of several clustered together. The tracks clearly indicated movement in a defensive formation, but the winding swath through the field pointed toward scouting activity. It appeared as if Burbon was attracting yet another goblin raiding party.
He followed the trail carefully, hoping to avoid an ambush. His nose could distinguish no scent fresher than that which lingered from the depressions, but the wind was at his back, any scent ahead of him would be difficult to seize.
He looked back to the top of the hill where he had found the shag prints. A question came to his lips that he whispered with confusion.
"Why didn't the shag attack? There were only six goblins. He could have had at least two of them for dinner."
He continued for a few steps more, crouched over with his head and back below the top of the grass that encompassed him. He stepped lightly, making not a sound. It saved his life.
The grass in front of him rustled in opposition to the breeze. Ryson froze. He caught the scent of approaching goblins, heard their guttural whispers. With teeth clenched, he waited for another rustle. When it came, he rolled to his side, moved out of the open swath and into thicker cover.
The noise of his own movements was hidden by the clamorous shuffling of those he hoped to evade. He kneeled as quiet and as motionless as a wary rabbit. His hand found the hilt of the Sword of Decree.
A half-dozen goblins slowly moved into his sight, they were not alone. A single serp walked with them. The sight angered Ryson.
Serps were the malevolent brains behind the goblin raids. Tactical and strategic specialists, they cared little for actual combat. They used the easily manipulated goblins to carry out their blood plans.
According to the legends, serps were an offshoot of the algor race, a tribe which had dabbled in the dark recesses of the magical energy. They wished to break their struggle between individualistic desires and group belonging that made the algors such an unpredictable breed. They had succeeded in that province but left themselves reliant upon the magic. When the magic was swallowed by Ingar's sphere, their presence faded as well. Now, just like the magic, they were back.
Serps displayed greater characteristics of a snake than the algors, especially about the head and neck. They had arms and legs, and walked upright, but the serps were shorter than the algors, closer in fact, to the stature of a goblin. Serps also had tails, long thin extensions of their back bones that slithered behind them as they walked.
Ryson now knew why the shag didn't attack. Serps were the most cunning of the dark creatures. It was believed they could actually hypnotize the less intelligent monsters. The legends included stories of packs of shags and river rogues banding together to attack in force. Such behavior among territorial creatures and natural rivals would be impossible without the driving force of a sorcerer's magic or the depraved treachery of a serp's tongue.
Ryson leapt to his feet. The sudden movement caught the goblins off guard. They could not load and fire their crossbows fast enough. The delver drew his sword and the magical blade magnified the light all around them.
Shocked and bewildered, stunned by the glowing blade, the goblins scattered. The six ran off in different direction. They spat as they grumbled words unintelligible to all but their own kind.
The delver knew the battle was not over. He had seen this maneuver before. Goblins would appear to flee in opposing directions only to regroup with crossbows ready. They would form a perimeter around the enemy within range of their arrows. Anyone that stood and watched, thinking the goblins defeated, would be caught in the center of a multi-pointed crossfire.
Ryson did not remain still. He took only a moment to issue a notice to the serp that recoiled in front of him.
"I'll be back. I'm not finished with you."
With his last word echoing behind him, he sprinted off to the east. He sheathed his sword as he ran so as not to carry a beacon for the other goblins to take aim. A blur through the grass, he easily caught the first goblin that struggled through the tall thicket. He relieved the snar
ling creature of its crossbow and its short sword. Since he did not need another goblin prisoner, he had caught many in the past season, he simply turned away from the spitting, hissing creature. He tossed the crossbow and the sword far off into the grass as he pressed upon the next closest goblin. Again, he disarmed the creature only to ignore it. He was forced to do this only once more as the final three realized their plight and ran off out of range.
With the goblin threat removed, Ryson deftly moved back to the original spot of confrontation. Though he had no desire to capture a goblin, the serp was another matter. He had not yet gained a serp prisoner, and it would do him well to earn one now. Unfortunately, the serp was gone.
Ryson felt no distress, for he knew the creature was not far off. Serps were not known for their physical prowess. While they were mentally superior to almost every other dark creature, they could do little in the way of fighting, or even simply running away.
Almost instantly, he spotted the retreating tracks of the serp. His eyes followed the path to a nearby patch of tall grass. He nearly laughed at the futile attempt to hide or perhaps even ambush. Ryson bent down and picked up a small rock. He threw it gracefully at the tall brush. The result was not as he expected.
One of the largest shags he had ever seen rose from the thicket and it showed an eagerness to engage the delver. It stood over twice Ryson's own height and carried the bulk of an ox. It snarled as its hands flexed with a desire to crush the delver's skull.
Ryson was more than surprised, he was confused. How could he have missed the presence of such a monster? The question, however, answered itself as Ryson noticed thick layers of grass clinging to the matted fur. In places, the monster looked more like a walking pile of hill grass than a shag. Beyond that, he could almost smell the lingering magic that seemed to surround the beast. The serp’s sorcery had helped camouflage the shag from both Ryson’s eyes and nose. The delver made a mental note to be more careful for such tricks in the future, but for now, the shag was closer than Ryson felt comfortable. It roared in anger. Behind it, Ryson could hear the snicker of the serp.
Again, the delver found anger. This time, unfortunately, he could do nothing. He was no match for a shag, especially one of this size. The hope of capturing the serp faded with another roar from the shag's drooling mouth. Ryson grimaced, but would not accept total defeat. If a serp was out scouting the hills around Burbon, it was obviously interested in a raid. He decided to put a damper on such plans as he yelled a warning before retreating.
"I know why you're here, serp. This shag might protect you from me, but it won't help you attack Burbon. I'll have the guard doubled, and I'll be watching for any signs of goblin movements. You won't get close to Burbon's wall, let alone past it."
It sounded an empty threat as Ryson backpedaled away from the slowly encroaching shag, but he knew it would more than suffice. The serp would certainly call off any plans of an immediate raid. They didn't like being outmaneuvered, and they didn't like losing their pawns because they had forfeited the element of surprise. Since Burbon would now be tipped off to a possible strike, the serp would simply have to redesign its plans.
Ryson could not see the serp, for it remained hidden behind the shag, but he knew it had heard him. With that, he turned his back on the monster, and retreated in a blur.
After putting a good distance between him and the shag, the delver pulled to a halt as he reached a lonely winding road which cut through these hills. The path wasn't used much anymore, not by normal citizens, not while shags and goblins waited in the surrounding area. It existed now only for patrols on horseback.
Ryson stood at the road's center, away from the tall grass which crept up to its sides. He first checked all about him for immediate threats. He found none.
Feeling secure, he placed his concentration on what the serp and goblins might have been after. To the northeast, his keen eyesight picked up a trace outline of the newly constructed wall which surrounded Burbon. He was now thankful it was built so fast. He looked to the gate towers which rose higher than the hills. He gauged the distance from where he stood to the southern tower platform, and then factored in the last position of the serp and the goblins.
"They were probably checking for blind spots," he noted to himself.
His eyes scanned the hills that rolled directly south of Burbon. He paced about as his focus fell upon a ridge that might offer what the serp desired.
"They'd be able to get awfully close if they approached from that angle. We'll have to build another tower."
The need for more construction forced him to consider the amount of work already completed since he had moved to Burbon; a fortress wall and five towers. Now they would need a sixth. He knew the people wouldn't complain. They accepted, even invited, the rigid requirements that would keep them safe. Burbon was one of the last outposts before Dark Spruce Forest, and nothing separated it from the wilderness which seemed to generate the existence of so many threats. If another tower was needed, what else could they do?
He thought of the previous town he called home, Connel, and how different it was from Burbon. Most of it was simply due to size. Connel probably housed thirty times the amount of people as Burbon, and it included farmland that stretched out beyond the safety of walls or towers. Connel didn't even bother with defensive construction. They simply forged an army. Platoons would protect the rims of the farmlands as delvers would scout the perimeter on an ongoing basis. Hundreds of men stood armed and ready at any one moment within the city to repel any goblin raid.
Such a thing was just not possible for Burbon, there were too few people. They had to make the most of their small force of guards. That's why they all accepted the new wall and the towers, and it was why they accepted him, the only delver to live in their midst. They needed him more than Connel needed him. His explorations gave them warning, probably saved them from being overrun completely. There were just simply too many breeding grounds nearby for anyone in Burbon to dismiss the need for scouts. The Fuge River, the hills, especially the forest; all held danger.
The delver took off for Burbon's main gate. He paused only at the entrance to warn the guards of the serp's presence in the field. They tensed at the warning, but he bid them to be at ease. He assured them the serp wouldn't attack now. It was too early in the day and the serp had been uncovered. Still, he would pass the news to Sy, the captain of the guard, before night fall.
First, he wished to see Linda, the true reason he now made Burbon his home. He went immediately to the Borderline Inn. He expected to find her behind the bar, but he found only her substitute who said Linda had left to find him.
A twinge of anxiety took a nibble at the delver. She never went looking for him at midday, when he was normally out on patrol. She knew he would be impossible to find. If she needed to see him, it must have been for something of great importance. His curiosity pressed upon his thoughts. He left for his house, thinking she would try there after she found he was not with Sy.
He moved quickly up to the small cottage door, but he paused before entering. His ears picked up a conversation. Low tones. Seriousness. His vast memory allowed him to recognize the second voice immediately. He threw open the door with unbridled enthusiasm. He saw Linda sitting across from more than just an old friend. The guest looked just the same as when Ryson left him on Sanctum's peak.
"Lief!" the delver nearly shouted. "Lief Woodson."
With a huge smile, Ryson nearly leapt toward his guest. He wanted to say so much, he couldn't get any words out of his mouth. He took Lief's hand with a joyous shake.
Linda stood up to meet her fiancé. She took his free hand and quickly explained.
"He came to the bar first. He was looking for you. Apparently when you last saw him, you told him there was someone special at the Borderline. I only hope you were talking about me. I wanted to help him find you and I didn't want an elf looking around on his own. We went to see if you were with Sy, but some of the guards
said you were still out on a scout. I figured this was the best place to wait for you."
Ryson would not have been able to hide his happiness had he wanted to. "It's great to see you, Lief. Godson, it seems like only yesterday, but then again it seems like forever. I never would have believed to see you here. I remember how much you hated being in Connel. I can't imagine this place is any better for you. They didn't give you any trouble at the gate, did they?"
Lief shook his head. "No, they thought I was just another human."
"Another human? Not likely." He turned to Linda. "This is the first elf I ever met. I didn't even know elves existed, and he just dropped out of a tree."
"I know," she replied with a smile. "You've told me a hundred times."
Ryson swerved his attention back to Lief. The delver wore an excited grin. Here before him was a friend, but also an elf. Indeed, he had tried to explain it to Linda a hundred times before, but he never believed words would do it justice. Now, he had a much better way. "Hey, do me a favor. Show Linda your ears. She's never seen an elf before."
Lief sighed, but acquiesced. He pulled the long brown hair away from his ears, revealing their pointed tips.
Ryson looked to Linda. "Amazing?"
"Not for me. You've told me enough about elves and dwarves. I never doubted you. You can't expect me to be as shocked as you were. I've already been through things like goblin raids." She looked towards Lief. "You'll have to forgive him. Since we're getting married, he wants me to know everything he knows. Some people might get excited at the sight of an elf, but I know how much you helped keep him alive. I'm more grateful to you than anything else."
"Married?" Lief offered a wide smile to the couple. "Congratulations to you both."
Linda returned the smile. She gave Ryson a slight hug as her hand slipped around his waist. "Thank you. We don't have a date yet. Everyone, even me, is having a hard time adjusting to the changes. We thought it would be better if we gave it some time for everyone to adjust to what's happening. There's so much going on right now."
"More than you know," Lief added
Ryson immediately caught the tone of this grave announcement. For the first time, he truly examined the elf's expression. There was joy to be sure, joy in seeing a friend, but there was also concern, attention on a not so distant problem. He also considered what would make the elf leave Dark Spruce. What would make Lief willingly enter the walls of Burbon?
"You're not here to just say hello, are you? What's going on?"
Lief cleared his throat, as if reluctant to state the true purpose of his visit. "I'm afraid there is a great problem arising."
"Again?"
Lief acknowledged the reference to their last problem; the trek through Sanctum's core, the battle with Ingar, and the final destruction of the sphere. "No, this is not quite the same. In truth, this does not even really affect the humans, and only to a slight degree the elves. But it does involve us. You and me. It involves all who stood together within Sanctum to save the land. It has much to do with the dwarves and what happened to Tun."
Ryson grimaced at the memory.
Linda's focus shifted from the elf to her fiancé. She felt a tenseness growing in his body. She knew the pain he felt when he recalled those who died to save the land from the sphere. Tun was one of three to give their lives at Sanctum, and it was a memory that would always haunt Ryson. She turned back to Lief and spoke up to prevent a lingering silence. "Ryson told me of what happened in the mountain. Tun died while helping to destroy the sphere. Why is that causing a problem?"
Not knowing how much Linda knew of the events, Lief recounted the most important highlights. "Tun was a prince, the son of King Bol and Queen Yave, rulers of Dunop. Tun was killed by a sand giant, a creation of the algors. Jon, Tun's brother who was also with us in Sanctum, reported the event upon his return to Dunop. Things spiraled out of control after that moment.
"Things were hard enough in Dunop as it was. The dwarves were split about helping destroy the sphere at the very start. Many of them are afraid of the magic. When Jon returned with the sad story, the magic was already loose, and the dwarves were ready to blame anyone for their fears. The king became an easy target. It seems Bol could not live with the guilt of sending his son to his death. He relinquished the throne to Jon and banished himself from Dunop."
"So Jon's now the king?" Ryson interrupted. His delver instincts kicked in as he attempted to imagine the circumstances in the underground city. He openly wondered of the sequence of events and Jon's ability to lead. "That has to be tough, facing the death of his brother and now his father leaves. How's he doing?"
"He is no longer the king," Lief replied gravely. "Queen Yave would not support her younger son. I am told she blames him as much as she blames the algors."
At first, Ryson appeared dumbfounded. Nothing could be further from the truth. He shook his head as if to get the words from his mouth. "That's ridiculous. Jon had nothing to do with it, and neither did the algors. The sphere prevented the algors from controlling the giants. Tun attacked on his own. That's why he died."
"I am afraid that is not how Yave sees it."
"What has she done?"
"She made a deal with the separatists, a group of dwarves that want to end all ties with every other race. That is why I said it affects the elves only slightly and the humans not at all. The humans have no working relation with the dwarves. You would probably not even notice the change. As for the elves, we will see an end to trade with Dunop. It is not such a major concern. A setback to our relations, yes, but we will certainly survive without their assistance. If it all stopped there, I might not even be here now, but breaking ties will apparently not satisfy Yave's anger. She has declared war against the algors."
Ryson rubbed his chin. He had known of wars between humans, but until this moment, he never truly considered a war involving the other races. He had difficulty envisioning what it might mean, a war between algor and dwarf, but what he could imagine did not sit well with him.
"You said Jon was no longer the king. What happened, and why can't he stop this?"
"Rebellion, I'm afraid," Lief replied. "Yave's deal with the separatists included a violent overthrow of Jon. Apparently, separatist warriors stormed the palace, killing many dwarf guards loyal to the Folarok name. Jon has been imprisoned by his own mother. As far as the reports go, he is still alive, but it is difficult to confirm. If he is a prisoner, he would be kept in a palace cell. The separatists are careful, and they are making sure there is no challenge to Yave's power. She retains her throne as queen and now rules without much resistance. This is no true surprise, she was the queen under Bol's reign and many dwarves still recognize her as the true leader. Those loyal to Jon and the Folarok name are too few in number to provide any true threat. As long as Yave appeases the separatists, she will remain in power."
"You're certain of all this?"
"Very certain. Through the period of Bol's departure to Yave's rebellion, we continued to trade with dwarves who still saw elves as their allies. We received reports. We are still receiving reports now, though not as many. Some dwarves see Yave's plans in their true light, as nothing more than a thirst for irrational revenge. They see a pointless loss of life and wish to do anything to stop it. Some are acting as spies and are calling for whatever we can do. They must remain careful, however, for if they are caught reporting to elves, they will surely be executed."
Ryson sorted quickly through the new information. He tapped his fingers together lightly as he tried to place things in a logical order. "What is it the loyal dwarves have in mind? If the separatists are entrenched in Dunop and the majority of dwarves accept Yave's rule, I see little that can be done. I mean, what could we do? Send a war party of humans and elves into Dunop to free Jon and restore him to power? I doubt we'd be successful. We'd be fighting in their environment, upon their home ground. They'd probably slaughter us. And even if we did succeed in sending a raiding
party to free Jon, what would that truly accomplish? Do you think any dwarf would trust him again if they saw humans helping him? No, this is a civil war. The dwarves have to call for Jon's return. We can't force it on them."
"I agree, as do the elves of my camp. We feel for Jon and those dwarves that remain our allies, but we should not try to exercise our will upon Dunop. In the long run, it will bring no good. Those dwarves that call for our help also grudgingly agree, but they do seek another option. One that I might have undertaken anyway."
"And what's that?"
"To warn the algors before the war begins," Lief stated firmly. "They believe that if the algors have been forewarned, they can prepare for the inevitable battle. If a dwarf assault is unsuccessful, it might create an embarrassment for Yave. The dwarves are stubbornly proud. A loss to the less physically capable algors would certainly cause such an embarrassment. Yave might be forced to relinquish."
Ryson eyed Lief dubiously. "You don't really believe that, do you? You don't really think a dwarf would give up if she was beaten in one battle?"
Lief shook his head. "No. It will only fan her anger. She will rage with the desire to attack with a greater force."
"Then why do you want to do this?"
"For the same reason you would, to warn the algors. Tell me truthfully, now that you know what is happening, do you not feel honor bound to help the algors that stood with us at Sanctum?"
Ryson did not hesitate in answering. "Of course I do, but how will that solve what's happening in Dunop?"
"It won't, but as you say, that is as much a civil matter as anything else. We may not be able to solve the dwarves' problem, but at least we can save the algors from a slaughter. When we removed the sphere from Sanctum, we overcame the mistrust of every race. That was a proud moment. Now Yave threatens to soil that moment. She wishes to use Tun's death as a battle cry, to undo what we truly accomplished that night within Sanctum. That is something we can not allow. If there must be a battle between the dwarves and algors, let it be over the truth. Let it be over Yave's madness and her thirst for revenge, not over her delusions of what happened in Sanctum. They are not the same thing."
"I can't argue with you," Ryson admitted. "I just wish there was a way to stop the whole thing."
"For now, let us be content with warning the algors. That should be the first step in any case."
Again, Ryson pieced together the information given to him along with Lief's very presence within his house. "So you want me to help you find the algors?"
"You know the way. I would suggest we go to the sandstone edifice you described as their meeting place. The word can be spread there the fastest. I expect you still remember exactly how to get there."
"Of course I do, but maybe I should go alone. I'll move faster that way."
Lief's jaw tightened. "Are we going to have this argument again? Why do you insist on wasting our time with this? I owe as much to the algors as you. Why do you think you always have to go alone?"
"It's what I do," Ryson responded firmly. "Besides, the desert isn't a kind place for elves. Ask Holli. She'll tell you."
"She has told me," Lief responded indignantly. "And she will also accompany us."
The thought of Holli Brances broke Ryson's tension. He recalled his encounters with the elf guard. Above all, he imagined her stoic preparedness, her ability and willingness to deal with nearly any calamity. With Lief and Holli at his side before, they performed the impossible. They had removed the sphere from Sanctum and defeated Ingar. How much harder would it be to warn the algors and prevent a war? He thought he might share his own relief with his elf friend, and he considered a tactic which might remind them both of times when they overcame the truly insurmountable.
"I see. Well I know there's no point in arguing it any further. I know how stubborn you both can be. You never took my advice, even when you knew I was right. I might as well save my breath." Ryson paused. He hid a grin as he waited to see Lief's reaction. It had been a long time since he had spoken with the elf, and he wondered if Lief still swayed with the same emotional outbursts.
Lief surprised the delver. The elf seemed ready to give him a tongue lashing, but instead he held himself. He grunted as he swallowed his annoyance. He looked to Linda. "If you are truly going to marry this delver, I assume you want him safe?"
"Sometimes I wonder," Linda responded playfully. She remembered how Ryson spoke of Lief's outbursts. She had known her fiancé well enough to see that he was only trying to goad the elf into one of these flare-ups. She decided to help their guest instead.
Lief nodded to the delver. "Then I suggest you order him to have two elves escort him."
"So ordered," Linda laughed.
Lief eyed Ryson with a smug expression of victory. "There, you are now truly outnumbered."
Ryson surrendered. "I'm always outnumbered. You surprise me, Lief. You handled that almost diplomatically. What happened to your quick temper?"
"I have learned to control it, but only when I want to."
Ryson smiled broadly. "You know, it really is good to see you. You remind me of the good that came out of the sphere."
Lief bowed slightly. "Thank you. And you remind me that even the stubborn can be swayed."
Ryson grinned. "How about Holli? Where is she now?"
"She's waiting outside the wall."
"Really? Why didn't you bring her with you?"
"She would not feel comfortable enclosed within the walls. She would also find it difficult to hide her elf guard training. What do you think would happen if your human guards at the gate saw her constantly searching for hidden threats?"
"They'd get nervous."
Lief nodded in agreement. "And they would probably keep us. No, it was better to leave her where she is. She is scouting the perimeter."
Ryson brought a hand to his forehead. "Godson, I forgot about the serp. It was checking the walls with a group of goblins."
If you're worried about Holli, there is no need..." Lief began.
Ryson raised a hand to interrupt the elf's words. "I'm not worried about Holli. I was with her in the Lacobian desert. I know she can take care of herself. It's here, Burbon, that's the problem. You see, I'm the only delver here. After seeing that serp, I should be spending the next several days scouting for goblin movements."
Lief shook his head as if to emphasize that this was not truly possible. "But we must leave now, and we can not leave without you. We may not be able to find the algors. Holli believes she might find the way, if absolutely necessary, but she's not a delver scout. There is a distinct possibility we might get lost."
"I can't let you go alone," Ryson exclaimed. "Getting the algors involved is as much my responsibility as anybody's. And I wouldn't want to live with the thought of you getting lost out there."
"I wish I could give you some advice in this matter," Lief stated sincerely. "but the truth is the algors must be warned, and I can not risk losing even a day in waiting. I really don't know how quickly the dwarves plan to mobilize."
"I know, I know."
"Let Burbon's guard handle the goblins," Linda announced suddenly. It held the edge of an order.
Ryson looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
She did not back down from her statement.
"You can't handle everything yourself. If you're needed to warn the algors, then you have to go. You can't keep trying to do everything at once."
"I'm not trying to do everything at once," Ryson protested. "This is just a bad time. If I hadn't seen the serp, I probably wouldn't worry about leaving."
"Yes, you would. It's only been a couple of seasons, but I already know you too well. You think the safety of this town is your sole responsibility. Don't deny it."
"It is my responsibility," Ryson stated without hostility. He was not trying to argue the point, only stating a fact.
Linda remarked on truths of her own. "But not yours alone. There are others her
e that can protect Burbon. Sy, Enin, the guard. Sy can come up with scouts of his own. They won't find everything you could, but they'll let the goblins know we're waiting for them. I've learned enough about them from what you've told me that they won't attack."
Ryson could not argue the point. He looked to Lief. "She's probably right."
"Then is it settled?" the elf asked. "You will lead us to the edifice in the desert and together we will warn the algors?"
"I guess so."
"The sooner we leave the better," Lief nudged anxiously.
"I can leave now. I just have to make one stop at command and let Sy know what's going on."
Ryson looked to Linda with a somber smile, trying to mask his sadness in saying goodbye. "I'll be gone for at least five days, but you better count on seven or eight, maybe longer. I guess you're getting used to this by now."
"I'll never get used to it, but I'm learning to accept it." She grabbed him around the neck and embraced him tightly. "You take care of yourself."
"I will," he whispered and grudgingly moved away from her to the door. "I'll tell Sy to keep an eye on the house and the tavern."
Reluctantly, he turned from Linda and stepped out the door. He walked briskly down the path to the road, trying not to look back, trying to curb the growing emptiness which assaulted his being. His unease in leaving was a recently discovered sensation.
Before he committed himself to Linda, he found it so easy to simply up and leave, to go off into the wilderness without a care. Now, it was never easy. Now, an anchor existed. Leaving Linda caused him pain. A hole opened in his center, a hole which would not be filled as long as he was away from her.
Still, he remained a purebred delver, and the need to explore would always call to him. As he looked to the open skies to the southwest, he thought of the waiting desert and the algors. Surely, this would fill his craving for exploration. His steps carried him away from the front of his home, and he considered the contradiction of his predicament. Even as something called for him to stay, the gnawing desire to explore beckoned him to leave. Like a dog that pulled on the leash held by its beloved master, Ryson felt opposing forces exert themselves upon his soul. He wished to run free, but he did not want to leave that which he loved. In days to come, he would learn to appreciate this, see it as more of a blessing than a curse. Even now he began to understand the true triumph in his mixed feelings. Upon leaving this day, his delver soul would sing, but that part of himself which he gave to Linda would bring him back to Burbon. He finally had a true home.
He was silent in his thoughts for but a moment. He walked with the glide of his delver heritage, Lief at his side. He turned to his companion with the curiosity that was his nature. He wished to consider something else, something other than his leaving. He unleashed a general question in order to discover news from a friend he had not seen in over a season.
"So what's been happening with you? I've scouted some portions of Dark Spruce, the sections closest to here. I've met up with some elf guards. They seem to know who I am, but they don't like to talk about their camps. Security, I guess."
"Changes, good or bad, abound everywhere," Lief responded mysteriously. "My camp is no exception. The elves are learning to live with these changes. We face new threats, mostly in the way of river rogues and goblins."
"How are you getting on without Mappel?" Ryson did not want to stir any sadness with the memory of the loss, but he imagined the death of a camp's elder had to cause significant shifts.
Lief remained tight-lipped. "Mappel will always be remembered proudly. We learn to live with each loss."
He was less than convincing. There was something behind his words which perked the delver's curiosity. It was not sadness over Mappel's death, but something else, and Ryson pressed for the information.
"Does that mean the camp is more or less reacting normally to all this? I mean, whatever you might consider normal with the return of the magic and now this crisis with the dwarves?"
Lief side-stepped the issue by pointing out his own observations since entering Burbon. "With the events of Sanctum, we all had to expect that life in this land would never be the same. I look about this human town and see the proof for myself. The wall that surrounds this dwelling area is of new construction, as are the towers."
"That reminds me," Ryson interrupted. "I have to tell Sy of the need for a new tower. We seem to have a blind spot the goblins will be more than willing to utilize for their own advantage."
"That is exactly what I mean." Lief played upon the issue. "We must now concern ourselves with matters previously unimportant. I doubt there was a need for towers before the sphere was destroyed. Humans never had to deal with goblin raids. It is almost impossible to remember what things were like before the sphere breached its tomb. But it is like this all over. Every inhabitant of the land must learn the new way."
Lief stopped and bid Ryson to do the same. The elf turned about to make sure they were far from Linda and the delver's home. Seeing that no one was in ear shot, he spoke somberly. "I did not wish to bring this up in front of your betrothed. No need for her to worry, but you should be warned of the potential threat. Our objective is simple, but our path is not. As you know, to reach the algors we must cross the Lacobian. The desert is now a very dangerous place, very different from when you last crossed it to escort the algors home. It has become a place for novice sorcerers and wizards to practice their new found skill. As elves, we are more sensitive to the use of magic than perhaps any other race. Many have felt the surge of power in the direction of the Lacobian. We have sent scouts to the rim of the desert. They have all reported back with little information, but they remain certain that farther in the desolation, magic casters are honing their skills."
"Do you think they pose a threat to us?"
"Who knows for sure? They may ignore us. They may hide from us. Or, they may use us to further practice their powers. I would doubt any have had time enough to learn the arts to be truly dangerous, but there are always exceptions."
"I guess we'll just have to stay away from them."
"That is exactly why I have told you this. You must remain alert to this possibility, and although reaching the algors is our primary concern, I do not wish to stumble across a bold magic caster."
"I'll do my best to steer us clear."
"I know you shall."
The two moved on under Ryson's direction. They came to a square brick building with no sign. It was the command post and Ryson guided Lief inside.