Delver Magic Book II: Throne of Vengeance

by Jeff Inlo

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  Enin walked silently through the streets unseen by both friends and foes. A spell of deception hid his existence. The light bent around him. Emptiness swallowed his footfalls. It was not quite invisibility, for he could be seen if one looked directly at him and was well aware of his presence. If not, he was nothing more than a disturbance in the air, a breeze not worth noticing.

  From alley to alley, he moved through the town examining every facet of the burgeoning battle. It became quickly apparent that Sy's faith in Holli would be rewarded. The placement of troops and obstacles blended together perfectly. The advantage rested squarely with the town's defenders. As the number of fallen dwarves mounted, Enin could not find a single wounded human. As dwarves fell to the host of arrows and stones, they could not lay their hands upon the daring defenders. Ropes and ladders allowed ground troops to escape the wrath of this short-armed enemy. Dwarves were left grasping at air, cursing the humans and facing a hail of projectiles.

  He continued to drink in the magic as he watched the ongoing battle with great attachment. He could not distance himself from his neighbors that fought so bravely, and though he wished to conserve his energy, he could not refrain from assisting in his own unique way.

  He cast only a few minor spells, nothing to call attention to himself. He cast near invisibility upon a group of trapped soldiers to help them escape. He strengthened a barricade forcing dwarves to turn into another ambush. He crumbled the opening of one of the dwarves’ surfacing tunnels with a wind spin. His acts saved lives. This he knew, but he knew more.

  An awareness sparked within his essence. Beyond the sensation of magic, beyond the spell allowing him to read minds, he could sense the very soul of this battle. It was taking shape before him, growing like an infected wound. It grew angrier, a hurricane feeding on warm waters. It was feeding on the emotions of the participants, from fear to courage, from anger to exultation.

  He looked to the sky above and beyond. In a moment of sheer cognizance, he saw the universe, the dimensions above, beyond and within. In an instant, he understood how the magic opened pathways for the dark creatures to enter his land. He saw the true homes of goblins and shags. He shivered.

  Yet, with each fear came hope. He understood the immortality of his own soul. He saw the unending path of life. Circles, declines, ascents; the avenues were endless. He understood death and its lie to those unaware. Above all, he saw the true faces of angels and demons. To this point they came. They waited, the angels with patience, the demons with hunger. They were here to collect the souls of the dead, to guide or to trap. This battle was calling to them. This battle would offer them much.

  Tears rolled down Enin's cheeks. Tears of joy, tears of despair; he experienced joy for what he was becoming, suffered despair for what was happening around him. He understood that this battle was only beginning. Death would take many more before this night was over, more from both sides. How many of his friends would die on this day? How many souls would be lost because of this monumental stupidity?

  But what of him? He was growing in power, growing in knowledge. He could save them.