The diamond maintained its shape. It sliced forward with one point fixed upon Ingar's chest. It impacted before he could block and opened a rent within the apparition's center. A clear undiluted hole shone free within Ingar's midst. He winced with pain and then roared with anger.
"So be it!" he snarled, seemingly accepting Lauren's newfound abilities. With his palm atop the sphere, he pointed two fingers at Lauren. Lost was his desire to destroy her with flare. He only wished to remove her presence, to eradicate her as he dismissed the elder elf. He became a simple conduit, nothing more than directional device to siphon the power from the talisman and focus it upon a single target.
A narrow beam of bright force split the night, gleamed nearly as bright as Ryson's sword. Lauren attempted again to collect and refocus the power, but the beam defied capture. It passed through her palms as if they were not there. It found its mark at the middle of her forehead, and she collapsed with a groan.
Even as she hit the hard rock ground, Ingar maintained the presence of the beam. It slowly drove her beyond unconsciousness and closer to coma.
The sight was more than painful to watch. Each and every individual that remained upon Sanctum broke from their own hypnotic trance, shunned the shock which held them in place for so long. Holli fired an arrow, not at Ingar but at the sphere, an object which was solid and perhaps vulnerable to such an attack. The two algors followed suit, piercing the air with hard stones from their slings. Jon freed the mace from his belt and attempted a direct assault.
These attempts failed, however, as Ingar's free hand threw a wave of force that dropped them and their projectiles to the ground. Not an arrow, not a stone, and not Jon's mace ever got close to the orb.
Only one tactic met with success. Ryson had not attempted an assault, but had moved between Ingar and Lauren. With delver precision, he held the blade of his sword forward to block the deadly beam.
To Ingar's dismay and anger, the Sword of Decree absorbed the beam, halted its path as easily as a man's hand would hold a feather. The wizard moved his arm hoping to reestablish the attack upon the sorceress, but Ryson's speed proved too much for him. Each time Ingar would redirect his finger, Ryson's sword would counter easily.
Ingar's expression turned more and more violent. He bared his red teeth like a mad wolf. He flung his arm wildly in frustration. His own anger began to consume him, and he turned his aggression toward the delver. He no longer focused upon Lauren, but attempted to fix the beam at Ryson's heart.
It would not matter. Ryson's hand remained too quick, matching Ingar move for move. The sword stalemated the beam, and it fed Ingar's frustration.
The wizard's own grip on his distorted plans began to unravel. The desire to kill the delver seized his every thought. The pulsating hunger to watch his ray of power burn Ryson's heart became an obsession. Such was the intensity of his wish, he would have ignored almost anything at that moment, but even this burning craving could not blind him to the awe-inspiring sight to come.
They came without sound. Only the blazing glow of their very existence announced their presence. Dzeb saw them first, then Stephen, and Matthew soon after. High overhead, lights sailed flawlessly through the remnants of the night. Like stars dropping from the sky, they plunged downward to Sanctum's peak. Ten in number, matching the number that entered the citadel to retrieve the sphere, they set upon the level platform of the summit. They spread themselves in a large circle with Ingar at the center. They lacked any true definition, any true form or characteristic. Unlike Shayed, and even Ingar, whose spirit forms simulated their previous mortal appearance, these apparitions remained anonymous. They appeared only as glowing oblong shapes, but to Dzeb their identity was no mystery, and their appearance gave him the strength to bite through the mystic chain which held his mouth closed.
"Angels!" he murmured with emotion cracking his soft voice.
"Angles of Godson!" Stephen and Matthew repeated.
The spirits made no move, but their appearance broke Ingar's single-minded attack upon Ryson. The wizard removed his hand from the sphere, and the beam ceased.
Only at that moment did Ryson allow himself the opportunity to gaze at the surrounding spirits. He kept his sword at the ready, in case Ingar renewed his attack, but Ingar now became preoccupied with what he viewed as an invading force.
The wizard turned his seething frustration upon the spirits. "What are you doing here? You have no business here!"
As Ingar raved and threatened, Stephen quietly moved to Ryson's side. He moved with calm steps as if guided by the will of some great power. His eyes glistened with joyful tears. He could not hold back a wide smile. An expression of pure enlightenment filled not only his face, but his entire being. His words were strong and true, but they held the captivation of an emotional plea.
"This was never beyond Godson's will," he said to Ryson with such conviction the delver nearly dropped his guard. "What was to happen here was never meant to be prophesied, was never meant to be understood by elf or human, or anyone else. That is why it was not in the Book of Godson, why it was not a part of elflore. And that is why I saw two visions. This moment was for you and you alone."
"What are you trying to tell me?" Ryson questioned trying to look beyond Stephen's enlightened expression and attempting to understand his words.
Stephen spoke quicker as if time had become a crucial factor. "The will of Godson is paved first by the actions of great individuals. That is what waits for you now. The choice is yours to make. The power rests within you to stop Ingar, but the responsibility does not rest solely upon your shoulders. The angels are here to save the land regardless of your decision. You have been the centerpiece through this all, the channel through which Godson has painted his will, but what you do now is within your own hands."
Suddenly, violently, Ingar turned back upon Ryson as if he had heard the words of the interpreter. He disregarded the shapeless spirits and turned his anger into a crimson ball of fire. He hurled it, not at Ryson, but at Stephen Clarin.
The delver leapt forward, his sword ready to absorb the screaming attack. It cleaved the clump of power in half, but did not stop it. The two halves of red flame sailed harmlessly past Ryson. It reformed to single ball and found its mark at Stephen's chest.
The interpreter collapsed to the ground upon impact. He neither screamed nor cried. His shirt seared away, his chest boiled with severe burns as scarlet smoke drifted up from the smoldering wound.
Ryson twisted as he regrouped. He had seen the impact, and now smelled the nauseating scent of burning flesh. He did not know how much life could remain within the interpreter, if any. He could only guess as to the staggering pain if Stephen remained at all conscious. He dove to his side only to find him still smiling.
Stephen's eyes reflected an absence of pain. His entire face retained the bliss of the moment before the attack.
"Do not blame yourself," Stephen coughed a reply, his face still strangely glowing with peace and fulfillment. "This was meant to be. My responsibilities here, in every way, are finished. I shall leave with them." He gave a fading glance toward the closest angel before he died.
Ryson grimaced with sorrow. First Mappel, and now Stephen, both gone. The pain tore at him, pulled from him the awareness of where he was, what he was doing. He grinded his teeth together. He could not scream, though he wanted to.
"Remember his words. Honor your memory of him and remember his words." Though Dzeb remained chained and the sphere still within Ingar's possession, he spoke as if the land had already been saved, the threat removed. His soft, serene voice cut through Ryson's pain, brought him back to the here and now.
Ryson rose slowly. He stood looking down at the interpreter, not caring for whom or what surrounded him. He broke his stare upon Stephen to glance over at the remains of Mappel. He cast sights upon Tun's corpse and Lief's fallen form. His eyes then glanced down the still glowing blade of his sword, and finally at Ingar.
The wizard matched his sta
re with a sneer. Ingar would not completely forget the angels, he stole a glance at them at quick intervals, but Ryson remained the true point of his attention. He did not raise an immediate hand to smite the delver. Instead, he waited, watching Ryson's every move, and edging ever closer to the sphere as if grasping for the security of its power.
Ryson's grip on the sword tightened. He opened himself, not to the weapon, but to the power which used it as a conduit for knowledge. He waited silently, patiently, but most of all unwaveringly. He opened himself up to true faith.
The necessary course of action implanted itself in his thoughts with razor sharp clarity. He now had the power, the knowledge and the will to defeat Ingar and his talisman. He stepped toward the glaring wizard as if he represented no more threat than a yearling rabbit.
Insanity gave way to fear in Ingar's eyes, fear that drove him to strike. Both hands formed tight fists and he struck them together. A burst of red flame speared out toward Ryson. Crimson flames licked the air, so hot they singed patches of sparse wild grass growing within the rock, but they would not so much as warm a single hair on the delver's head.
Ryson saw the absolute truth of what he faced. He was not fighting magic, he was fighting Ingar. A spirit, yes, but still the culmination of consciousness, experiences, and emotions of a once mortal human wizard. Even as a ghost, Ingar was limited by his own unique character, by his judgments and the encounters which shaped that character. His own insanity born by his thirst for power blinded him as a mortal and it bound him as a spirit. Even with a near limitless source of power at his command, Ingar could not break the bonds which shaped his own sense of reality. That reality dictated he would attack not as a spirit, but as the mortal human wizard he once was, and no match for the speed and agility of a purebred delver.
Ryson had leapt clear of the flames, expending little effort or energy. He jumped forward, closer to Ingar, and he watched the wizard's fear grow. He planted his feet firmly upon solid ground and bent his knees for balance. He stood prepared for the next attack which came quickly.
Ingar threw his arms apart, fingers extended. A surge of force exploded from his outstretched hands. Unlike his previous assaults which were limited in scope, this burst of power covered a wide breadth of space. The wizard flung it all around him, in every direction, leaving no where to run or hide.
The crackling wave of energy formed a ring which stretched outward. It expanded as it rolled away. As Holli, Jon, and the algors were still struggling to their feet from a previous attack, it bowled them over, sent them rolling to the edges of Sanctum's flat peak.
As the energy wave bore down upon the surrounding angels, they floated motionlessly in their circle about the wizard. Their faceless forms could give no indication of emotion, but their lack of movement served to reveal their disregard for the assault. It passed harmlessly through them, but they were not its target. The main thrust of its force was directed at the delver, but he defied it as well.
He held the flat of his blade before him, held it vertically in front of his chest and face. He stood perfectly balanced upon the balls of his feet, stood with absolute certainty in his actions.
The ripple of energy hit his sword first. The blade sucked power like a hungry calf. The wave weakened dramatically, diminishing instantly to the strength of a strong wind. Ryson leaned into it as it struck his person. The gust threw dust and debris into the air, it held nearly all his weight as he leaned forward. It ruffled his hair and his clothes, but did little else.
Ryson said nothing. He showed little delight or enthusiasm in overcoming Ingar's assault. He eyed the wizard carefully, attempting to predict the next attack.
Uncertainty fed Ingar's fears. He brought incorporeal hands to his ghostly forehead as if to massage temples which truly did not exist. In a fit of fear born despair, he thrust both arms about the sphere. While his immaterial hands could have past through pure granite, they seemed to take hold of the talisman which radiated with energy. His red form pulsated with power, beating fitfully like the heart of a running horse. The red hue of his spirit deepened to a point he appeared almost solid. A cry of rage spurred by the hope of victory erupted from his core.
His arms remained about the sphere as he called his own final order. "Drop your weapon, delver! Drop it or I shall destroy this mountain top. I will send everyone about us tumbling down its broken slopes in an avalanche of rock and dirt. Drop it now!"
The delver released his hold on the sword with a blur of motion. His arm had cocked back and flew forward before Ingar finished his last word. The sword point sliced through the air, the weapon becoming a flying spear. Such was the speed with which Ryson made his throw, the glowing blade formed a streak like lightning from his hand to the center of the sphere. It skewered the talisman, the sharp point slicing through one end and crashing through the other.
The sphere split open like a cracked egg, falling apart in Ingar's very arms. A surge of power, composed of every color, exploded into the air, an eruption which matched a hundred volcanoes. The once captured magic rose high in the sky, only to spread out, scattered in every direction as if blown by winds from all points of the compass.
If the wizard made one final cry, it was not heard. He was caught in the surge and could not pull free from the current. The waves of released energy pulled him apart, washed his remnants away. It erased every spiritual fiber of the wizard Ingar.
With Ingar destroyed, the chains that held both Shayed and Dzeb disappeared. The cliff behemoth struggled to his feet as the elf spirit looked to the quickly dispersing cloud of colorful energy.
The land was being reborn before their very eyes. Changes erupted in a heartbeat as magic buried for countless seasons spread with fury. Changes, both good and evil, both dark and light, encompassed the sky and the ground. Subtle alterations which would not be noticed in the life of an elf took root in the hills and in the flatlands. Obvious transformations, more striking than the sight of a cliff behemoth, took hold in the far corners of the deserts and the seas. What could not have been possible was now likely. The normal lives of every creature in Uton were now irrevocably altered.
"The magic is free," Shayed stated just above a whisper. "Free and pure. The taint of poison has been removed." There was no emptiness for the sorceress in this moment, and there would be none to follow. Only now, at the sphere's final destruction, did she realize that Ingar's talisman was not a source of purpose for her consciousness, but a shackle. It was not the sphere that etched her place in the legends, but her own deeds. In this revelation, she found everlasting fulfillment. With these words, she faded from sight.
As if her departure signaled the end of their own mysterious mission, the ten shapeless spirits which had encircled Ingar took flight. Each circled the mountain top once before taking leave to the heavens.
Dzeb watched their exit serenely.
Ryson followed suit. He sheathed his sword to let their light glisten more proudly in the fading dark. He silently counted the gleaming lights as they disappeared. Though, only ten had taken flight from Sanctum's peak, eleven had circled overhead. He bowed his head to the last as it followed the others to the heavens.
In but scant moments, the glow from the east soon expanded. The light of day encompassed everything. The rainbow of magical energy disbursed completely as the stars were blocked from sight and the sky turned a deep blue. Ryson turned to the east, turned to welcome the sun as it rose above the horizon.
Chapter 31
"She faded away just before the other spirits took off." Ryson made his explanation to Lief as the elf sat up on the drying ground in the sunlight. The algors sat beside him, using their healing powers to chase away the exhaustion, to repair his injured ankle. Holli stood watch over them all, never convinced that the danger had simply ceased to exist. Her eyes darted about the summit as well as down the slopes while the delver continued his retelling of Shayed's departure.
Ryson was torn with emotions and his words betrayed the swirli
ng confusion within him. There was joy, as much as he tried to deny it. There was also much pain. Ingar had been vanquished, the sphere destroyed, but the death of two more brought guilt to any sense of triumph. He found it difficult to retell the story to Lief, could not look in his eyes when he spoke of Mappel's death, but the elf had urged him to continue. He could do so only with hollow words, proclaiming victory as if it were equal to defeat. He now spoke of Shayed's last words with but a hint of comfort.
"She said the magic was pure and the taint of poison gone. I can sense she's right. Something about the air feels different. Not the way it was before the quake, but less threatening."
"The taint of poison has been removed, do not doubt that." Lief stretched to test his rejuvenated muscles and to illustrate his returning strength. "I would not have lasted this day if it had remained, but the poison is gone from my body as well." The elf paused, scanned the mountain top as if to confirm an assumption. "What about Dzeb?"
Ryson shrugged, indicating he understood so little about the cliff behemoth. His tone carried the same uncertainty. "He left just as the sun rose, started climbing down the mountain like nothing ever happened. He told me to say good-bye to everyone for him. That was it. I don't..."
Dust kicked up from Lauren's heels choked off his words. She looked upon the delver blankly, ignoring the elves and the algors.
The delver noticed many things in that moment. Her nervous actions disappeared as her arms hung steadily at her sides. Her eyes, though void of emotion, could focus without distraction upon her objective. The confusion, the denial of what she had become, had washed away. There remained hundreds of decisions to make, decisions only a magic caster faced and foreign to a delver, but the acceptance of her own abilities now seemed anchored in this changing reality.
Delver Magic Book I: Sanctum's Breach Page 53
