Delver Magic Book I: Sanctum's Breach

by Jeff Ianniello

  At this moment, however, he did not feel such unbounded excitement. Certainly, nothing could be more exotic than what stood before him now, yet, he actually recoiled from the sight of such unfamiliar creatures. It was one thing to be a delver on exploration; it was something else all together to break the very bonds of reality. Such was the case with a toad-faced creature that took the posture of an ordinary man.

  The astonishing demeanor of the algor was not all that unnerved him. Their cresting numbers, which threatened to swallow every inch of space around him, left the delver searching in vain for open spaces. Just like his elf companion, he tossed his head from side to side with anxious rigor. He searched in vain for open spaces within the cascade of algors, searched for an open path, or even jagged brakes in their ranks, but none existed. He felt as if the rings of algors would suffocate him.

  Again, his anxiety was unfamiliar. He spent many a day exploring tight caves and narrow caverns, spaces with barely enough room to move, and he never flinched. On countless occasions, he walked through forests so tightly bound with trees and underbrush that nearly all light vanished, even during the summit of the sun. Such excursions gave him no more apprehension then walking into the Night Watch Inn. Yet, this throng of algors left him more than uneasy. Claustrophobia chewed at his nerve endings and left him fighting for air.

  Ryson could not speak. He stood helpless as a seemingly infinite number of bulging black eyes probed him. Suddenly, his claustrophobia, his aversion toward their strangeness, as well as the desert silence were all broken by a chorus which erupted from every angle of the ring of algors.

  "What do you know of the orb?"

  The request came from several dozen mouths at once, but they were in such unison that the words were clear.

  Ryson flinched in surprise but said nothing. He understood the question, for the algors spoke as plainly as any human. He might have expected a slithering accent or croaking, throaty tone, but neither manifested itself.

  The algors stood waiting for a reply, motionless for but a moment. Their own response to the delver's silence crackled and rippled throughout their own circles, a cacophony of questions and exclamations. Gone was the unity of their voice. The harmony of the first question which rang with such clarity was now replaced by a confused, muddled barrage. Each algor spoke a different message and each called out to be heard. Neither Ryson nor Holli could discern a single question or statement from the confused mass of voices.

  The ruckus stopped as suddenly as it began just as a hundred or more algors spoke out again in unison. "Why don't you answer?"

  The sudden shift from the undecipherable, disjointed outburst to this harmonic question left a strange echo in the air. Like a voice of reason breaking from the bounds of confusion, it prodded the delver into a reply.

  "I didn't expect to see so many of you," he explained in a raspy, uncertain voice.

  A checked gurgle of laughter broke from the mass, but was quickly stifled.

  Ryson felt an immediate urge to explain further. "I mean, I knew there were a lot of you up there, I just didn't expect you all to come down at once."

  Several questions broke from the crowd. Not all the algors spoke, so it was not like the first unintelligible outburst, but no question was the same. Ryson struggled to hear as many as possible.

  "How did you find us?"

  "What of the orb?"

  "Who is responsible?"

  These were the only questions he could make out. The others broke off into a cluttered echo of shouts.

  Ryson took a deep breath. He took a quick glimpse at the ground to organize his thoughts. When he lifted his head and spoke, he tried to look at as many of them as possible at once, hoping they would understand he was addressing them all. He raised his voice to be heard, but kept it under a shout.

  "The sphere is no longer contained in Sanctum," he started with emphasis, hoping they would not interrupt with another outburst. "It is still within the mountain, but it has used its power to create a breach in the wall. The magic which was buried with it is now being discharged throughout the land. Unfortunately, the magic still contains the poison which forced its burial in the first place. I have met with elves to discuss this. I am here as a messenger to ask you to come to Connel."

  More questions erupted from the crowd. Again, Ryson strained to hear them all.

  "How do we know it's true?"

  "What of the foul creatures?

  "How did the breach occur?"

  Ryson held up his hand as the questions mounted. He could no longer decipher the words from even the closest algor. Their voices melded together into a rumbling chant of nonsensical syllables.

  Slowly, reluctantly, the algors quieted.

  Ryson spoke with as much patient composure as possible. "The sphere has gained an awareness of its own burial and has broken free with its own power. The return of the magic has brought with it the return of dark creatures. Goblins have returned to Uton. As for knowing its true, our very presence here should indicate there is something of great importance happening throughout the land."

  Several algors in the rear shouted out together. "Do not believe him."

  Ryson responded quickly. "Whether you believe me or not should not matter. The simple fact is that the magic is again free in the land. If you haven't noticed it yet, just wait. You will. There are signs of it occurring all around this desert of yours. I have already encountered the walking dead and a group of goblins. But like I said, you don't have to believe me. You'll see sooner or later. The point is that the sphere is free from Sanctum and it threatens us all."

  "How does it threaten us?" A question broke clear from the crowd. It was again spoken by several algors, and again in unison.

  "It contains a poison which will kill all of the races, kill every living thing in the land."

  "The poison is directed at the elves," the chorus of voices replied.

  Ryson shot a questioning glance at the mob. "Then you admit that you know the magic has returned?"

  "We have known that for some time," spoke one voice from the back of the crowd.

  "We have been able to return to the ancient art of healing," another single algor spoke from Ryson's right.

  The algors continued to make statements, but they called them out one by one rather than all at once. Each algor was allowed to speak, if it so wanted, and now the others allowed each statement to be called out without interruption.

  "The magic may not be pure, but we can still use it."

  "It contains nothing which can hurt us."

  "None of this concerns us."

  It was this last statement that raised the ire of the delver. For the first time he raised his voice with more than a hint of anger. "So that's it? It doesn't concern you so you'll just hide out here in the desert? What are you going to do when the sphere finally turns toward you? What will you say when the poison starts affecting the algors? Will it concern you then? And what about the goblins, the undead and other creatures mutated by the tainted magic? When they start attacking you, will you simply tell them that none of this concerns you? Do you think they'll listen? I could have said the same thing when all of this happened. I'm not an elf. I'm a delver. But I realize we all have a stake in this."

  Ryson's harangue was suddenly stopped in surprise as he felt a hand upon his shoulder. His head swung with deliberation. It was Holli's hand that held him, and it was Holli that spoke with gentle wisdom. "This will not help. Convincing them of the need for assistance is not the same as scolding them. We need their help."

  Ryson bit his lip. He unclenched his tightly held fists and folded his hands together in front of him. Turning his attention back to the algors, he spoke with greater control. He did not, however, apologize for his outburst.

  "If you know that the sphere is no longer contained, then you must accept that there is danger to the land. It is your own responsibility to determine what that danger is. You owe it to every one of your kind. I'm not asking you to do anyt
hing more than send representatives with me to meet at the town of Connel. Other races will be there. As you can see now, a delver is walking with an elf. I have been told the dwarves will also be present. Will it really help you if you miss this meeting? Or is it better that you understand what is happening? There you can discuss the merits of your own opinions and determine for yourselves if you are really threatened."

  Before continuing further, Ryson recalled Mappel's insight about the algors. Algors were attracted to the unusual. The stranger the story the more likely the algor will embrace it. Ryson brought the most curious of the events back into his memory. It was not a difficult task. He spouted them off to the crowd with a dramatic flare.

  "Maybe you are willing to wait this out in the desert, but are you truly aware of all that's happening around you? I have spoken to the ghost of Shayed. That's right, the elvin sorceress that brought the races together in the Wizard War. She has returned and now waits for us at the summit of Sanctum. She waits for all the races. If you doubt any of this, remember that the magic has returned to the land. It allows the spirits to return just as it allows the goblins, just as it allows you to work with powers of healing. The land is changing. That much you can't deny. I suggest you find out just how much things have changed. Otherwise, the algors will be ignored in the meeting of the races, just as you will have decided to ignore my request."

  Barely a moment of silence existed in the small gap between the end of Ryson's speech and the eruption of the algors. Voices rang out from the crowd. Some spoke in unison, others broke from the tide.

  "It would not hurt to find out what is really happening."

  "If Shayed has returned, we must be included."

  "What if the sphere falls in the wrong hands?"

  "Send out scouts."

  "If there is a danger we should be prepared."

  "We should not be left out of something so important."

  Ryson seized the trend of agreement towards his purpose. "Then you must send some of your own with me now. Holli and I will guide you to Connel. We will see that you are told of everything we know. You will have your say in this matter. If you don't, decisions will be made without your consent. Can you afford such a thing when dealing with the Sphere of Ingar?"

  A throng of fifty or more voices spoke in somber unison. While the chorus rang with clarity, its tone of anguish could not be denied. "No, we can not."

  A single voice spoke out immediately after to throw one last dilemma at the delver.

  "Connel is a human town. We can not go there."

  Holli took the reigns of the discussion for the first time and settled the matter quickly.

  "We will bring you to my camp first. My people will see that you are brought into Connel unnoticed and protected. We will see that the humans do not harm you."

  "Then it's settled," Ryson accented the point. "All you have to do is decide which of you will accompany us."

  For the first time since crowding around Ryson and Holli, the algors turned their attention towards themselves. Heads bobbed about. Calls were shouted to and fro. The rumble of disconcerted voices turned into a roar. Every algor spoke at once, every algor shouted something different. None listened to what the next said.

  The mass began to move again, but not in unison, not like the tightly defined group that brought them down from the canyon wall. Instead, algors moved independently and in every direction. They pressed passed the right and left of one another. They circled clockwise and counter clockwise. Some pushed to the forefront of the circle. Others left completely, returning to the holes high in the sandstone cliff face.

  Ryson could not imagine a more confused sight. Like dry leaves scattered by the four winds, the algors mulled about without purpose or direction. If the delver hoped to gain any group consensus, such hope faded in this churning mass.

  He rubbed his forehead with his hand, unsure of what to say or do next. At this point, he doubted he would have been heard even if he shouted. Algor after algor continued to step past, each mumbling or shouting something to a crowd that could not hear and did not wish to listen.

  "This is ridiculous," Ryson mumbled to Holli. "I don't think we have time for this. Do you have any suggestions?"

  Holli simply shook her head.

  Ryson heaved a heavy, exasperated breath. He watched another group of algors vanish into the sandstone. He wondered if they would return, he wondered if it mattered. They were still encircled by hundreds of algors.

  As he turned about to gauge the actual numbers that remained, he noticed many walking off into the desert by themselves. They walked without care, off into the barren desert as if it were nothing more than a casual walk in a small park. Those that left in this manner, left alone. They drifted off in separate directions, in every direction; north, south, east and west. Some rounded the wall of the sandstone canyon, others walked off toward the high dunes of the southeast. One after another they disappeared into the bright sand which continued to reflect the late afternoon sun.

  As algors continued to leave into the sandstone caves or out into the vastness of the open desert, the numbers of algors which remained about Ryson and Holli dwindled. Soon, there was but fifty. They continued to speak out their minds as they moved about without form or pattern. The roar had also diminished. Now, their calls mounted to nothing more than a rumble. Still, Ryson could not make out any of what they said.

  Suddenly, they stopped. They stopped talking. They reformed a tight circle about Ryson and Holli and stopped moving. Roughly twenty of the fifty voices called out to together.

  "It is decided, we will accompany you."

  Ryson could not mask his surprise. "All of you? There's about fifty."

  "We are the most interested," the voices again rang out in unison. "The others have left it to us."

  Joy over having the algors accept his plea mixed with apprehension over leading fifty back through the desert, to Holli's camp, and ultimately into Connel. "I don't know if it's a good idea to bring so many," Ryson stammered.

  "Why?" the chorus questioned.

  "It will attract too much attention," Ryson responded. "And it will be dangerous. How am I going to keep you together when we get to Dark Spruce Forest? What if we're attacked by goblins? For that matter, how am I going to conceal a group of fifty algors walking into Connel?"

  The unity of the algors again disintegrated. One by one shouts disseminated from the smaller circle.

  "If one goes, we all go."

  "It will be more dangerous."

  "A smaller group can travel faster."

  "Who is to choose who goes?"

  "Let the delver choose."

  Ryson responded quickly to the last remark.

  "You can't leave that to me," he insisted. "I'm not the one that should make that decision. We need algors that can speak for all of you. How do I know that? We also need algors that know the legend and the secrets of Sanctum."

  "Any algor which stands before you can fulfill that task," the group again spoke in unity. "What one knows, we all know. We keep no secrets from each other"

  "Then it doesn't matter which of you go. I shouldn't have to choose at all. You can decide," Ryson offered hopefully.

  "How many do you suggest accompany you?"

  "How about four?" Ryson speculated.

  "No less than ten," the group responded. "But you must choose."

  Ryson again looked to Holli for assistance, but got nothing more than a shrug.

  Again he addressed the fifty. "Are you sure about this?"

  "You must choose."

  Ryson accepted the responsibility with great reluctance, but accept it he did. Randomly, he began tapping the shoulders of algors around him. He counted out numbers as he moved about the circle. When he reached ten, he returned to the center.

  "If I touched your shoulder, you will come with us."

  Without any dissent and without making a sound, the forty not chosen removed themselves from the circle. Some went off into t
he desert, some returned to the sandstone wall.

  The ten moved in closer to the delver and elf. All ten spoke together. "You will lead us now to the elf camp."

  Ryson held up his hand. "I don't want to head off just like that. We've had a long journey to get here and it's going to be a long walk back. It's late and the sun will set soon. For now, I would hope you would offer us a place to camp. The time of rest will be well spent."

  Holli said nothing, but her expression revealed her relief.

  "We can stay the within the canyon," the algors replied. "But we will leave before dawn."

  "Agreed," Ryson stated. "Keep in mind, this is going to be a long and potentially dangerous journey. Do you have any weapons to bring with you?"

  "We will bring our slings." It was all they said before they turned and stepped up to the wall of the canyon.

  Ryson and Holli looked at each other before following the small group up a short climb and into a hole in the sandstone mountain.

  Chapter 16

  Ryson glanced over his shoulder for the third time in a span of but twenty paces. He said nothing to the others, but he noticed Holli making similar checks. They had left the loose sand and the dry wind behind them, but he doubted it was the fading sight of the desert which called to her.

  He knew she was happy to be upon solid footing, away from the shifting sands and the bone scorching heat. A few stubborn trees sprung up from the rock hard ground. He knew that sight brought her solace. Even now, larger clusters of trees poked above the horizon in the direction they traveled. Before the sun dropped from its peak in the sky, they would be within sight of Dark Spruce Forest.

  He knew she was well aware of this, yet her attention clearly focused on their flanks and not upon the path ahead. Her weary glances to their rear far surpassed her normal cautiousness. Her darting eyes continued to scan the land in every direction, but he could not deny that her sweeping glances to the southwest were more deliberate. He could also not deny that her apparent concern simply matched his own.