Delver Magic: Book 04 - Nightmare's Shadow

by Jeff Inlo

  Delver Magic

  Book IV

  Nightmare's Shadow

  Jeff Inlo

  All rights Reserved.

  120111008

  I have tried to make this eBook available in as many formats as possible. If you encounter any difficulty with the formatting, please let me know. Contact information can be found on my web site at www.sitelane.com.

  By Jeff Inlo

  Fantasy:

  Delver Magic Book I – Sanctum’s Breach

  Delver Magic Book II – Throne of Vengeance

  Delver Magic Book III – Balance of Fate

  Delver Magic Book IV – Nightmare's Shadow

  Spiritual Thriller:

  Soul View

  Soul Chase

  When Do I See God? (by Jeff Ianniello)

  Science Fiction:

  Alien Cradle

  Humor:

  Counterproductive Man

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  To Joan, for making the struggle infinitely easier

  Christine Bell deserves a great deal of credit for generously offering her assistance. Her willingness to help proves that noble qualities do not simply rest within characters of fiction.

  Chapter 1

  Magical energy inundated the land of Uton like water. It pooled in the valleys and swept across the plains like a flash flood. It drifted across the sky like swollen rain clouds and rushed beneath the surface through caverns like an underground river. It was in the soil as well as the leaves of every plant. It was the steam from heat and the ice of cold. It could reflect the sky and the mountains like a clear lake, create illusions as incredible as any dream. Disturb it and it would send ripples of turmoil as far as the eye could see.

  Ryson Acumen sensed such a disturbance—something in the wind, something off to the west. A mix of impressions fell upon his delver senses. He could smell fear, hear haste, and feel desperation. Definite physical properties defined each sensation, but the magic wrapped itself around each and added mystery to the mayhem.

  He tried to understand the magical energies that flowed over, across, and through the land, but the concept remained mostly foreign to him. He was no spell caster, and although Enin insisted that magic was inside every delver, the energy seemed to move beyond his instincts. It felt both natural and unnatural at the same time, like a familiar face that arrives uninvited at a late hour.

  His inherent delver abilities, however, allowed him to hone in on even subtle changes to the land. His heightened senses fed his curiosity, but they also often warned him of danger.

  The west was a constant source of upheaval for him lately. The magic casters experimented with spells of unknown power in the isolation of the desert. It seemed easier to control the magic in the barren land, as if—like water—the energy hastened to leave the sand and rock to its own devices, and thus—unlike water—it was easier to collect.

  And yet, the wind that carried this new sensation did not seem to originate from the sands of the Lacobian Desert. The direction was true, but not the distance.

  Ryson placed greater attention on the anomaly, focused his senses on what he could not quite see or touch. One of the attributes became very clear to him. He actually smelled a desire... a wish to leave the forest that surrounded him.

  Odd.

  Dark Spruce Forest had become a haven for creatures that utilized and depended on the magical energies. Most beasts viewed Dark Spruce as the ultimate sanctuary.

  Ryson, however, could not dismiss the sensation. It was fear mixed with the desire to flee, as opposed to the gripping terror that might leave one unable to move, frozen in a dazed stupor.

  The delver leapt silently to a small clearing among the trees and narrowed his sight to the shadows off to his left. He held his breath and his ears quickly picked up the rustling of leaves and the snapping of twigs.

  Something was moving in his direction, but he was not the target. Whatever it was seemed to be running at a constant speed with escape being the one true objective. The form coming at him was fairly large—he could tell that just from the sound—and somewhat nimble, moving with an agility somewhere between the effortless grace of an elf and the persistent forward thrust of a shag. The movement matched the desire of flight that Ryson could almost taste. The motivation for such emotion?—still unknown.

  The delver focused on the shadowed form that finally came into sight, and he matched its outline with his growing knowledge of dark creatures in the area. The size and motion made the identity clear. It was a swallit—a powerful creature that combined the features of a buffalo with those of a human, but instead of hair, it was covered with thick strands of matted vines. Swallits could run swiftly on all fours or maneuver with great mobility on just their hind legs while standing upright.

  Swallits remained rare in Uton; very territorial and more secluded than river rogues. Not many had crossed over to the land, or at least Ryson had encountered very few. They did not pose much of a threat to humans, but they remained dangerous. It was difficult for humans to outrun such creatures, but delvers were much more elusive than humans and Ryson did not fear the charge of the beast.

  Unwilling to dismiss the situation as a random encounter, Ryson remained more concerned over the monster's intentions. Most predators did not openly hunt swallits, and for good reason. Swallits were not quite the most cunning of dark creatures—nowhere near as daring as serps—but they were leagues ahead of most goblins in the areas of critical thinking. They could also cast spells, or so the lore revealed. Ryson had never actually witnessed a swallit utilizing magic, but the lore had proven accurate in its descriptions of other monsters and Ryson found no reason to doubt this particular attribute.

  Still, the delver knew he could communicate with the beast. He just had to get its attention.

  Ryson unsheathed the Sword of Decree and the forest lit up around him as if noon time. The blade reflected starlight a thousand times over and the delver stood at the center of the light. He called out and demanded the creature acknowledge his presence.

  "Swallit! I'm a delver and I want to talk to you."

  At first, the creature veered away, but as if realizing it could not escape a true delver, it swerved back around and quickly circled the figure holding the blazing sword.

  "Ryson Acumen?"

  Hearing his name uttered by a beast of the dark lands caught him by surprise, but Ryson recovered quickly.

  "You know me?"

  "You hold the sword."

  As much as he didn't want to admit it, Ryson's exploits were becoming well-known by human and dark creature alike. With the Sword of Decree in hand, he had destroyed the Sphere of Ingar, which ultimately unleashed the magic across the land. He had saved the dwarf city of Dunop from shadow trees with the glowing blade and cleaved the dark wizard B
aannat in half. He could not deny that the shining weapon was becoming legendary.

  "Yes, I hold the sword, and I need to know where you're going."

  The creature would not answer at first, but Ryson would not accept silence. The creature was headed east—toward Burbon, toward his home—and Burbon was now somewhat vulnerable. Creatures like the swallit would normally avoid Burbon for it was the home of a wizard who was becoming much more legendary than the Sword of Decree. Unfortunately, that wizard's attention was currently divided.

  On that night, as on many other past nights, the wizard Enin remained in Connel, helping to rebuild a city that had seen two major conflicts. Connel had fared badly in the return of magic. Dwarves had almost decimated the city, and what was left intact temporarily fell into the hands of a goblin horde. The city endured both hardships, but not without great loss, and the wizard vowed to guide the city back to prosperity.

  Still, Enin had not abandoned Burbon, had not simply left it to its own devices. He had cast many spells to serve as mystic barriers against invading hordes, and he remained ready to return to the small town if the need was urgent. He would not leave Burbon—so close to Dark Spruce and the last true town before the Lacobian Desert—defenseless.

  Ryson understood that these defenses might keep away most invaders, but not all. The most cunning and cruel creatures sensed the presence of magic casters. They would know of Enin's departure, and though Burbon was protected by walls and towers, as well as a finely trained militia, it remained a ripe target so close to Dark Spruce Forest.

  "You're headed east, toward Burbon. Is that where you're going?"

  The swallit released a throaty cough as if to grumble.

  "I will bypass Burbon."

  "Then where are you going?"

  The swallit finally came to a stop. It rose up on its hind legs and walked slowly toward the delver.

  "Does it matter to you? I do not threaten Burbon and I do not threaten you. If what I know of you is accurate, that should be enough."

  It should have been enough, and it was to relieve concerns of danger, but Ryson remained a purebred delver, and there was his curiosity to consider. It could not be so easily satisfied.

  "You're running away," Ryson stated. "What makes a swallit run away?"

  "Am I required to answer a delver's quiz?"

  "No," Ryson replied, making it clear he would not threaten the swallit with reprisal should the creature refuse.

  "Then I shall go my way, and you can go yours."

  And the beast turned to leave.

  Ryson might have been unwilling to intimidate the creature, but he was not so willing to give up on the questions goading his delver spirit. He also wanted to ensure Burbon's safety. If the monster refused to answer a simple question, then the delver would not trust its stated intentions of bypassing Ryson's home.

  "You can go your way, but I'll follow you to make sure you stay clear of Burbon."

  "Then follow if you will, but sheath that sword," the swallit demanded, turning back with a growl and glancing uneasily at the glowing blade.

  "Why?"

  "Because you will offer me up like a beacon. Why not simply whistle for a goblin raiding party or a hook hawk?"

  "You're too big for a hook hawk and I doubt goblins would be brave enough to tackle you."

  "So you won't sheath the sword?"

  "I'd need a better reason. You might be trying to leave me defenseless."

  "And you are beginning to irritate me," the swallit grumbled.

  "It's not my intention, but you won't tell me what's going on."

  The swallit looked back to the west, and clearly grew impatient.

  "I wish to leave and I don't want you blazing a trail behind me. Is that so difficult for your delver mind?"

  "No, but you still haven't explained any of it."

  "And since when does a swallit need to answer to a delver?"

  "You don't. You can go about your business and I'll go about mine."

  "But you will continue to follow me?!"

  "Only as long as you're close to Burbon. I have people to protect. You should understand that."

  "I only understand that you might endanger me with that sword lighting up my path for anyone to follow."

  "Is someone following you?"

  "No, and I intend to keep it that way. Now be gone and realize I have nothing to gain by lying to you."

  "Danger cuts both ways, my friend. You're running from something, that's pretty clear. You could be bringing danger to my home. Tell me what you're running from and if it makes sense, you can go your way."

  The swallit lost its patience, unwilling to explain itself to the likes of a delver, even the delver who held the Sword of Decree. It dropped back down to all fours and charged Ryson Acumen, hoping to crash its massive head into the delver's midsection.

  Ryson leapt away, but made no attempt to counterattack. He kept his sword held high and the blade away from the enraged monster. It was not his intent to harm the creature by design or by accident. The Sword of Decree could burn the soul with but a touch, and Ryson did not wish to inflict such pain. Still, the delver would not simply relent. A fleeing swallit in the early dark of night was a strange sight. The beast's unwillingness to explain itself was understandable, but only to a degree. In Ryson's curious mind, the mystery deepened with the swallit's attack.

  "This isn't going to help," Ryson offered. "I know you're fleeing from something, just tell me what it is."

  The swallit swung around, stood up once more, and brought its front legs together. It mouthed a few words and a yellow pentagon appeared at its hooves. The yellow energy then flew out from the creature and crashed across the blade of Ryson's sword.

  Ryson now knew for a fact that swallits could indeed cast powerful spells.

  The yellow magic appeared to turn to liquid as it bubbled down both sides of the blade. It brightened at first, then turned dark gray. As the energy encased the weapon in full, the light of the blade died away.

  The display of power shocked the delver.

  "What did you do?"

  "What you would not. I doused the light. Now follow if you wish, but your sword will blaze no path for others to travel. You might as well sheath it."

  Ryson looked at his weapon in shock. The blade could magnify the dimmest starlight on a cloudy night. Nothing ever before had brought darkness to this sword of light while Ryson stood upon open ground. He had held the sword aloft under the thickest clouds of terrible storms in the darkest of nights, and still the blade magnified what little light existed. For the first time out of its sheath and with a path to the open sky, the sword looked as dull as rusted iron.

  The delver brought his hand to the blade. He tried to rub clean the magic energy, but to no avail. The gray covering could not be pushed away.

  "You can't remove it," the swallit offered, displaying no pleasure in the effectiveness of its spell, "but do not agonize too much. The shadow that covers it will fade away in short time."

  "You shouldn't have done that! I wasn't going to hurt you." Ryson declared.

  "And you should have listened to me," the swallit shot back. "I asked if I had to answer a delver's quiz, and you said no. You should have left it at that, but you wouldn't relent. Your foolish curiosity got the better of you."

  Ryson, at first, found anger in those words, believed he had done nothing wrong other than to ask the swallit its reasons for racing out of the forest. It was a harmless question, a reasonable request.

  He could not, however, maintain that anger. Ultimately, he considered what he would have thought if their roles had been reversed. What if he had been traveling through the forest and happened to cross the swallit's territory? Did that give the swallit authority to question him, to perhaps impede his progress, or endanger him? It did not, and he would have used his abilities just as the swallit had used its own.

  "You're right," the delver said, and he sheathed the sword. "I deserved that."

&nb
sp; The swallit marveled at Ryson.

  "You actually mean that, don't you?"

  "You're not a threat to Burbon. You wouldn't get past the walls or the guard even if it was your intent to attack the town. I don't know why you're running, but that's your business."

  "Then why didn't you just sheath the sword when I asked?"

  "Because I want to know what would make a swallit flee. I still want to know, but threatening you isn't the way to find out. I would have hoped you would have told me."

  "I owe nothing to you," the swallit grunted.

  "No, you don't, and that's why I should have let you be. I'll try to figure out what you're running from in some other way."

  The swallit almost appeared to grin.

  "The stories of you, Ryson Acumen, seem to be true. You are a complex creature. It is not well to have you as an enemy, but you do not apparently make enemies without cause."

  Ryson did not know exactly how to respond to such words. He simply nodded and turned his attention to the west as he dismissed the swallit.

  "Well, I won't follow you now. Just remember that Burbon remains well guarded. Keep to your word and stay away from the town. I doubt anyone else will challenge you tonight."

  The beast turned to leave, but paused. It swung its massive head back toward the delver one last time to offer its respect, if nothing else.

  "I will return your honor with two favors. The first is that you should never trust what you see when yellow magic is cast. While it is very powerful in its own right, it is also the power of illusion. Light and shadow—one or the other, or both in concert—can be utilized to misdirect even the senses of a delver. Your blade still glows bright, but you believe the light to have been snuffed out."

  Ryson looked over his shoulder at the hilt of the sword now sheathed across his back. He did not draw the blade out of respect for the honesty he was shown.

  "It was still shining? All that time?"

  "Your eyes saw what the magic wanted you to see, a covering over the light, but to those who know to look beyond the magic, the light will appear as bright as ever."