Delver Magic Book I: Sanctum's Breach

by Jeff Ianniello

  Ryson recognized the voices and matched it to that of the goblins found at the base of Sanctum Mountain. They were attacking en masse, using the dark to their advantage. Their shouts lasted for but a moment, a defiant challenge for the guards to meet them. Beyond that, they would make no further calls to reveal their position.

  Ryson considered what he learned of the goblins from his talks with Lief Woodson. If the elf's words were true, and Ryson had no reason to doubt them, the goblins would slaughter all they could lay their hands upon. The delver turned his attention back to the crowd within the Borderline Inn. He spoke with an iron will.

  "Listen to me all of you. Stay calm and you will survive this night. Panic and you won't." He spoke clearly but quickly. "I'm going out there to see what I can do, only you can help protect your safety. Dim the lamps but get that fire burning hot."

  No one questioned his authority. The sword at his side punctuated his command, and his orders were carried out without challenge. Linda threw three heavy logs on the fire as the other servants and a few patrons either extinguished or lowered the flames within the lamps. The corners of the room grew dark as the blazing fire was now the only true source of bright light.

  Ryson continued giving orders. He pointed to three large men he presumed to be farmers sitting at the bar. "You three. Break at least three dozen legs off of those bar stools. Wrap the ends tightly with rags dipped in oil from the lamps. They'll make good torches. The rest of you move either behind or around the bar. Stay away from the windows and doors."

  Ryson stepped aggressively to the door. His hand was now firmly wrapped about the hilt of his sword but he kept it sheathed. He opened the door a crack and gazed carefully outside. With sudden swiftness, he threw open the door. His arm left the door knob and whisked outside. In a blur, he had a hold of a confused, frightened woman and yanked her inside.

  "It's alright," he comforted her as he directed her toward the others inside and shut the door behind her.

  As he continued with his ear pressed upon the door and an eye upon a neighboring window, every person within the tavern followed his instructions. Soon the torches were constructed and the people were huddled in the center of the room.

  Ryson looked back to them and gave his final commands. "Light two of the torches. Keep the rest ready by the fire. I want you two men at the door with the two lit torches. When the rags start to disintegrate, throw them back in the fire and light two more. Keep someone near each widow but stay to the side and don't make a target of yourself. And watch for breaking glass. If something tries to get in, call for a torch and burn it. Keep the front door closed but unlocked. If you see one of your own running through the streets, get them inside quick. If something else tries to get in, put a torch in its face. You'll know what your enemy is when you see it. I'll try to keep an eye on this place, but I have to help outside. Your safety is as much in your own hands as anyone else's"

  "We'll be alright," Linda called out, but she could not hide the look of concern for herself, for those around her, or for Ryson.

  He nodded, opened the door, and leapt outside. The door shut behind him.

  Once clear of the front of the tavern, Ryson crouched and surveyed the area. He quickly located a dark spot near a corner alley away from any lamp post. He moved to it in a heartbeat where he could use his night vision to assess the raid.

  At the center of town and toward the east, the lamp lights remained lit, but many others at the western edge of town were now out. Darkness seemed to swallow an entire section of buildings. Shouts of the guard were replaced with shrieks of pain. Soon silence enveloped the area as much as the growing darkness. Shrouded rustling was now the only sound he could detect in that direction.

  Orders of other guards could still be heard at the opposite side of town. They were moving closer to confront the sizable band of invaders, but they were moving slowly, cautiously.

  Another light to the west was vanquished. The goblins were quite aware that the guards would have difficulty seeing in the dark. They were extinguishing the lamp lights systematically, probably sending out forward observers to handle the task while groups of others hid in the shadows with crossbows loaded.

  Ryson gave another heed to the slowly approaching guard. He gauged their distance and speed and compared it to the closing edge of the darkness. The goblins would reach the inn before the guard. They would see the fire within and move to extinguish it.

  Ryson bit down hard on his lip, almost drawing blood. He looked down at the sword, the hilt still in his grasp. "It'll give off a beacon every goblin within the town will see," he grumbled. His hand released the handle and shot into his bag. He pulled out a rope and his knife. The knife went into its familiar spot between his teeth. The rope stayed in his hand. He darted towards the darkness.

  With great care, the delver set about his initial task of locating the closest goblins, the ones responsible for extinguishing the lamp lights. He spotted them quickly after but four blocks. They moved with precision as they extinguished one lamp light after another. Moving in pairs, they climbed the posts using themselves as ladders. They were nothing if not efficient in this task, but they also seemed most absorbed by it. Their focus fixed solidly on this single objective and they paid little attention to anything else going on around them.

  Moving within the shadows, staying out of any light, Ryson used his superior vision to pick and choose a path that led him around the lead goblins. Ryson passed them with ease, noting their single-mindedness of purpose. He wondered if any goblin could carry out more than one task at a time.

  Once beyond the border of light and dark, Ryson moved with greater care. He sniffed the air, listened to the late night breeze before venturing around a corner or passing an intersection of roads. In but a few steps, he located a secondary group of foes, a handful of goblins a block behind the point.

  He counted four, crouching in the darkness at the side of the road. They waited impatiently for the lead goblins to accomplish their tasks before they would venture forward. These creatures used the vanishing light as their cue. Their crossbows draped across their arms in firing position, they moved in concert. They noted movements in darkened buildings, obviously frightened townsfolk trapped in their homes that darkened their own lights hoping to be overlooked. For now, the goblins passed them. It was their mission to eliminate the guards first. If there was time, they would return to take care of the helpless and unarmed.

  Ryson let the goblins pass before taking a position directly behind them. He stopped when they stopped, waited when they waited. When they moved again, he was on them.

  The rope he held was short, but long enough for him to wrap around three before they even knew he was there. He pulled on it, hard. All three fell to the ground. Their cross bows dropped from their hands. One went off when it hit the ground. The short bolt sliced the air but harmlessly plunged into the side of a building. The other two remained cocked, but the bolts fell out of their firing position.

  Ryson took both ends of the rope in one hand and held firmly as he set upon the fourth goblin. The rope pulled and dragged the first three, keeping them off balance and helpless. Their groaning alerted the only free goblin within their midst. It turned to face its attacker, but its crossbow was knocked from its hands by a swift kick before it even saw Ryson's face.

  The dagger stayed in Ryson's teeth as his free hand slashed through the air to the goblins belt. He had the handle of the short sword before the goblin moved its arm. Showing only slight compassion, Ryson swung the flat part of the blade down upon the goblins head. It struck with a resounding thud, but made no cut in the scalp. The creature would live, but hopefully within the confinement of cells and under the watchful eyes of the town guard.

  Ryson turned to the other three and knocked them upon their heads equally as hard. Only one was able to draw his sword in time, but the goblin was no match for the delver's speed and agility.

  Ryson turned an ear to the heavy darkness off to
the west. The clamor of the scuffle obviously alerted a larger party of goblins. He could hear them moving up fast, probably expecting to meet with the main body of the human guard.

  For now, the delver ignored them. He spun towards the goblins at the point who were now working on yet another lamp. They were too busy to notice what was going on behind them. Ryson ran toward them at top speed. The short sword remained in his hand just as the dagger remained in his clenched teeth.

  One was leaning against the post standing on the other's shoulders when he reached them. He grabbed the higher goblin in one hand and tossed him like a handful of hay. It hit the ground in a heap, rolled over with a groan, then went silent.

  With glaring eyes Ryson brandished the newly acquired short sword at the second goblin's throat.

  The goblin backed against the post. Its small puffy hands seemed to tremble in indecision.

  With his free hand, Ryson took the dagger from his teeth. With a weapon in both hands, he stood menacingly over the creature, ready to strike with both blades.

  "Don't!" he growled and pointed with his eyes to the sheathed sword at the goblins waist. "Call a retreat," he ordered again.

  The goblin did not move.

  Ryson instantly recalled his first encounter with goblins. He remembered how the mention of his name appeared to stir a reaction as well as compliance from that goblin, and he spoke with blood-boiling anger. "My name is Ryson Acumen. I'm a delver and you won't escape. I'll see to that."

  The goblins eyes widened ever so slightly. He looked down the road toward the approaching goblins. They were barely in sight and moving too slow for his liking.

  "You will let me go if I do, yes?" the goblin demanded with as much fear as loathing.

  Ryson bit back his growing anger. "You, yes. That is if you call for the retreat right now. The other one and the four back there are my prisoners. Now call retreat or you won't be so lucky!"

  Without hesitation, the goblin opened its mouth and called out with strange, unintelligible words.

  Ryson kept his attention upon the goblin in front of him but listened for obvious signs of retreat to the rear. Whatever the goblin said, it clearly sent the desired message. Ryson heard the distinguishable sounds of scurrying feet. The goblins were moving away fast, out of the town.

  "Now you must let me go," the goblin demanded with a nervous watch upon the two blades which continued to threaten him.

  Ryson sensed the swirling emotions in the goblin. The fear for its own near worthless life, its lackluster indifference to those it helped kill, and its bubbling desire to strike out against the delver all such sentiment was as clear to the Ryson as if it were carved in the goblin's breast plate. While it did not reach for its sword now, instead waited for the promised release, it was clear that the goblin would return with malicious intentions.

  Ryson thought of the town and Linda. They were lucky he was here this night, but he would be gone in the morning and unable to protect them. If the goblins returned, many more would probably die, maybe even Linda.

  If he stayed, the Sword of Decree would stay with him. Again, his vow to Mappel echoed in his ear, this time it mocked him. He had done all that was asked of him. He assisted Lief in reaching Sanctum and helped bring Shayed's word to Mappel. Even now, the algors were probably reaching Connel. He needed only return this blasted weapon which he did not want in the first place. It was all that required his departure from Burbon, but he could not ignore it. He had to leave, yet he had to protect this town as well.

  Ryson turned one option over in his mind. He needed to convince the goblins that Burbon was not a worthy target for their ill-will, and he had a messenger before him. He stared deeply into the swollen face of the goblin.

  "Before I let you go, I want to know your name."

  The goblin sneered, but could not help recoil from the delver's searching stare. It responded with a whining protest. "That was not part of the deal."

  Ryson shook his head and exhaled heavily. "That's alright. You don't have to tell me anything. I know your scent now. I'd be able to find you again if I had to look through a hundred goblins. But I want you to know that I'll be watching this town. If anything happens to it, I'm coming after you and you will answer to me. Understand?"

  The goblin only spat.

  With the swiftest of strikes, he smacked the goblin on the shoulder with the dull edge of the short sword. The motion was so quick it defied the goblin's vision. It was meant to punctuate Ryson's own intentions, to prove his words were no idle boast. "Remember what I said. I'm a delver and I will find you."

  The goblins expression turned to sullen concern and Ryson believed his words had found their mark in the goblin's cowardly spirit.

  "Move!" Ryson shouted. "Or draw your sword. Take your pick."

  The goblin chose the former and sped off into the night.

  Ryson watched with grim satisfaction. He truly doubted this goblin would return, and he could only hope it would convince any others to avoid Burbon as well.

  He allowed the fleeing goblin a few moments before addressing other important matters. He lifted the fallen goblin off the ground and brought it to the other four that remained unconscious in the road. He tied them all together before leaving them.

  With the town still dark, he took the time to make a careful reconnaissance of every street and every alley in the western part of town. He found the tracks of the goblins and followed them to ensure they had all left town. None remained. They did, however, leave their mark.

  Ryson found the bodies of eight guards scattered about the streets and alleys that remained in darkness. None were left alive, though most probably died in slow agony. The short arrows were not shot to kill immediately. They plunged into the stomach, the upper shoulders, the thighs and the back. One had as many as a dozen riddled among his limbs.

  Ryson again remembered Lief's words regarding the goblins and his distaste for them. The elf had warned Ryson that the goblin cared little for the sanctity of life, would not care for the life of a delver, or apparently a human. The proof was all around him. He threw the short sword to the ground and finished his reconnaissance.

  Satisfied that the immediate danger had ended, the delver returned to the captured goblins, finding them surrounded by a half dozen guards. Many of the lamps were being relit and Ryson saw them clearly as he approached.

  The guards wore minimal armor and carried spears just as those that stopped him that same afternoon. One, however, wore a long sword at his side and a vest of red cloth over his chest plate.

  Upon noticing Ryson stepping forward, the guards turned and held their spears with menace. The man with the sword, though, merely cast a suspicions glance. He called out with a commanding tone.

  "Are you responsible for this?" the question boomed out across the silence.

  "I am," Ryson stated simply and continued walking forward as if the spears meant nothing to him.

  "And what of the creatures responsible for the raid?"

  "They're called goblins and they're gone," Ryson replied flatly. He walked past more than one guard, considering them nothing more than gnats buzzing around his ear.

  "Stand down your arms!" came an order from the red vested soldier to which the guards reluctantly adhered.

  "You're the captain?" Ryson asked as he now stood in front of him.

  "I am. Who might you be?"

  "Ryson Acumen."

  The captain nodded and looked to the sword which remained sheathed at Ryson's side. "I was told of your arrival. You're the stranger from Connel. Tell me what happened here?"

  Ryson treated the command as more of a casual request and responded in kind. "Your men told me this afternoon that they might need my help. I heard the commotion and simply did what they asked."

  The captain shook his head slowly but succinctly. "That's not what I mean and you know it. I want to know how you were able to capture these goblins and thwart their attack."

  "I'm a delver," Ryson admitted. "
I was able to sneak up on the forward attackers before they saw or heard me. I took them out and forced one to call the retreat."

  "Any reason why you didn't reveal that little secret to the guards this afternoon? If you did, I would've known about it." The captain did not hide his annoyance with this simple fact.

  Ryson revealed his own irritation, which was of a greater degree than that of the captain's. "And what would you have done if I did tell them?"

  "I would have wanted to see you."

  "And you would have asked a lot of questions, kept me under wraps until you could figure out what to do with me. Isn't that right?" The delver's words snapped from his mouth. It was the tongue lashing he wanted to give to the guard that blocked his passage earlier that day. He had found the man in charge, the man ultimately responsible for the stationed guard, and he bore into him. "You probably would have kept me locked up until you could ask all your mindless questions. Well if I allowed that, I wouldn't have been able to save you the way I did. You would have all walked right into annihilation."

  "Don't tell me what I would and wouldn't do!" the captain started angrily, but Ryson wouldn't let him finish.

  "I'm not going to argue with you," Ryson flashed. "You and I both know what would have happened. Just be grateful it didn't. You have eight comrades dead back there. I kept there from being more. Now I've given you four prisoners to question, that should help you learn how to protect yourselves from these things. And by Godson you better learn. I gave one of them a warning to leave this town alone. I told it I'd hold it responsible for anything that happened here. Well now, I'm telling you the same. These things won't go away just because you want them to. You have to do more than just carry around those stupid spears. Build walls and gates. Put guards in towers that are able to recognize when trouble's near."

  The captain's eyes blazed with fury. "You dare tell me how to protect this town. I have served in over ..."

  "I don't care what you've done in the past. I know it didn't help those eight men that are dead back there. Just remember what I said. I'm holding you responsible for the safety of this town. Now I've done more than my share, so I'm not going to stand here and waste time with you. I left some people at the Borderline Inn. I'm going back there now. If you want to join me and see what they say, that's your choice. But if you want to try and stop me, well good luck. I don't tire easily."