by Inlo, Jeff
"So you wish to attack now?"
"Absolutely. Look, I know I took a risk, but I believe in your guards. I know what they can do. You have the ability to improvise and attack in an instant. Time only helps the serps. The faster we move, the better off we'll be."
"But I need more information for an attack," Birk demanded. "I can't move blind!"
Ryson knew what the elf captain needed and offered far more. He made a declaration that surprised many.
"The serps are in a large mansion just to the northwest of our current position. The house is secluded, surrounded to the east and south by thick groves of trees. It's near the edge of a cliff and overlooks the sea. I told Jure to teleport us to a spot where we would be out of their view. I need you to determine the best way to capture Petiole before the serps know we're here. Shantree put you in charge of the guards, but I don't want it to stop there. I want you in charge of taking Petiole. Do whatever you have to do. We'll follow your lead."
Birk took a single moment to consider the request. He was not pleased with being plunged into battle, but in Dark Spruce Forest, elves faced that reality each and every day. His anger remained palpable, but he understood the choice he faced. He could waste time admonishing the delver further, or he could accept the situation and use it to his advantage. Realizing the delver had indeed created an opportunity he should not waste, he gathered the elf guards and issued immediate orders.
As the elves moved into position, Jure conferred privately with the delver.
"I have to admit, I'm impressed," the wizard confessed, "but I'm also curious. You surprised me, and them, by coming here, but you did it by taking control and staying ahead of the serps. Why did you just pass authority over to Birk?"
"He's the best suited for what we have to do next. I don't want to waste time asking for his advice and fighting over control. He knows what has to be done. I just want him to do it. If we get a hold of Petiole, this thing is more than half way to being over."
"But now you're not making the decisions. We got here because you wanted to stop reacting to the serps. It wasn't just a matter of being unpredictable. You wanted to start dictating what happened. You were moving faster than some of us can think. Now you're handing over what happens next to Birk. Why?"
"It's not just about breaking from the serps' influence. It's also about getting everyone else to make their impact. Holli told me as much back in Connel. She said I didn't have to carry everything on my back, and if that means letting the elf captain handle it, then so be it."
"Speaking of Holli, do you think she's taken care of Okyiq yet?"
"I hope so," Ryson confessed. "The more problems the serps have to face, the more distracted they'll be."
Birk returned to Ryson and revealed his intentions.
"I have several guards moving forward to scout the grounds around the house. Others have been sent in to surround and secure the area around the premises. I would like us all to move in closer in case we have to advance more quickly than I anticipate."
"Whatever you think is best," Ryson acknowledged.
Haven Wellseed joined them and the group moved to a thick cluster of trees that offered excellent protection. As Birk waited for a report from his scouts, he pressed both Haven and Jure for additional information.
"I do not want either of you to cast a spell, but I believe you are both sensitive enough to the magic to offer me additional information. What can you tell me?"
"There are demons here," Haven stated with absolute certainty. "Their presence stands out. It bends the light of this realm in a way no other creature can."
"We are aware of at least two dieruhnes that were guarding Petiole. Can you locate them?"
"They are high in the building, but away from us. They are closer to the sea."
"Petiole is probably near them. Excellent. What can you tell me, wizard?"
"All five serps are here," Jure revealed. "I can feel the magic flowing both into and out of their minds. It's reaching out to the east. It's flowing across Dark Spruce, definitely into Burbon, and all the way to Connel."
"That's probably their connection to Enin," Ryson offered.
"There's more than that. They're connected to creatures all over the land. You were right, Ryson. They're watching and listening to everything. And I think... Okyiq is dead."
"Why do you say that?" Ryson asked quickly.
"The flow of magic. There's a very strong connection between one of the serps and the creatures in Burbon. It feels like he's taken control of their army."
"And he wouldn't have to do that if Okyiq was still alive," Ryson added with an accepting nod.
"It's not only that. I can sense the magic that connects the serps to Neltus. I can feel the same link that goes out to Enin, but there's nothing to Okyiq. I don't think they would just break it off, do you?"
"No, I doubt they would," Ryson agreed. "We have to believe that Holli succeeded."
The thought brought a wave of relief to both Ryson and Jure. In order to stay ahead of the serps, they had made no attempt to check on Holli's progress. They believed in her plan, but both remained concerned about her safety. With all signs pointing to Okyiq's demise, they could breathe a bit easier.
While it also pleased him to hear a fellow elf and once respected member of his guard had achieved success, Birk could not waste time with conjecture regarding Holli's encounter with Okyiq. He needed as much information as possible about what they faced in Portsans.
"You said Neltus is here," the elf captain noted. "Any other spell casters?"
"There's definitely someone else in there beside Neltus," Jure answered, "probably Rivira. I can feel a strong connection to the water. To tell you how many more would require me to reach out through the magic. There's a good chance I'll reveal myself."
"Then hold off... for now."
"What about you, Ryson Acumen? Anything else out of the ordinary your senses can detect?"
"No, no dark creatures on patrol out here. Nothing in the skies and we're the only ones in the groves. I don't think they know we're here."
With that said, two elf guards dropped from the trees and offered additional details obtained from their scout. Birk appeared beyond satisfied, almost surprised by their fortune.
"You were right, delver," Birk conceded. "You gave us an opportunity and we don't dare waste it. I need a few moments to set my guards in place and then we will act. I believe we can take Petiole before they know it, but once we have him, they will most certainly react, and we will all have to be prepared."
The elf captain conferred with his guards and the elf sorceress. After giving them their orders, he turned to Ryson and Jure.
"Ryson, I will need you to assist my guards after they take Petiole. The dieruhnes will most assuredly try to prevent his capture and will attack viciously to release him from our hold."
"I'll do whatever you need."
"Wizard, you said if you probed for more magic casters it would reveal your presence. When I give the signal, I want you to do just that."
#
The magic that connected the serps allowed them to feel each other's growing animosity. Gone was the exhilarating thrill of devastating influence over the land. The intoxicating sense of power also dried up like a fallen leaf left in the sun. Both were replaced with a growing gloom born of one failure after another. The link which bound them together would reveal any attempt to deceive, and so, they allowed their scorn to rise free of any restraint.
"Are you still going to claim the wizard has not interfered?" one of the serps demanded angrily of Desiv.
"Are you surprised he saved his elf guard?" Desiv countered. "We should have expected it."
"We didn't expect it because you assured us the wizard would not intervene!"
"And he has not!" Desiv argued. "At least not where it matters."
Just as before, a second serp on the council joined the attack upon Desiv's judgment.
"Are you that foolish? Or are you simply
unwilling to admit your mistakes? The wizard's guard killed the leader of our army. We agreed she needed to be punished. The wizard prevented that punishment! How can you possibly state he has not interfered with our plans?"
Desiv would not be deterred, even when outnumbered.
"Did he remove our army from Burbon? No. He certainly could have. He has the power to do so with a few waves of his hands."
"You speak of what he did not do. You should concentrate on what he has done!"
"I have and I understand the full merit of the situation. It is you who are ignorant of the truth behind his actions."
"Then enlighten me!"
"If you weren't all so overcome with anger, I wouldn't have to enlighten you. Unfortunately, you are all letting your hostility blur the link between us."
"You are as much to blame as we are. Your thoughts are scattered. I have no idea what is fact and what is conjecture! Will you at least agree that Enin was responsible for preventing the death of Holli Brances?"
"Yes," Desiv conceded, but then offered his own assessment. "He saved his guard, but look at how he achieved that end and the message he directed to us. Enin made it clear that he was protecting a citizen of Connel. We still hold that over his head. Connel remains his greatest concern, and as long as we retain the power to devastate the city, he will not act against us. That is more important than the life of a single elf guard."
"That single elf guard managed to kill Okyiq!" Macheve noted, entering the debate with equal exasperation toward Desiv.
"We've been over this. The death of Okyiq was not a true loss."
"And what if the elf guard decides to kill another on the council? What if she decides to kill you? Would you consider that a loss?"
"I doubt you would," Desiv hissed. "I can sense that you would like to kill me yourself."
"My opinion of you is as clear as yours is of me... but they are both irrelevant."
"Then what is relevant?! There is so much hostility directed at me from every member on this council, I can barely understand why you're all so upset."
"Do not play the victim with us. You know quite well what is happening. It goes beyond the wizard interfering in Burbon or his elf guard attacking Okyiq. The delver is determined to act against us... and he is succeeding in everything he does. We can no longer use Bol as a means for inciting a conflict between the algors and the dwarves. The dwarves themselves have agreed to go underground, and the elves have agreed to help capture Petiole."
"I am more than willing to listen to your advice on how to get rid of the delver," Desiv growled. He then looked to the others on the council. "I would actually enjoy hearing any one's opinion on the matter. You all are excellent complainers but I don't hear any solutions to this particular problem."
"He will create the solution himself," Macheve hissed. "In less than three days, he will arrive with several elf guards and magic casters. He hopes to capture Petiole, but I suggest he find a more appropriate welcoming party."
"And how do we defeat this delver? I can sense your thoughts, but there is nothing specific to handle the delver's speed."
"We could try utilizing Riviri's magic to make the dieruhnes nearly as fast as the delver," one of the other serps offered.
"That's not a bad thought," Desiv conceded.
"It won't be enough," Macheve stated with great certainty. "We know they are bringing elf guards and magic casters of their own. Their main target may be Petiole, but they will be prepared for the demons, even if they are enabled with speed."
"Do you have an alternative suggestion?"
"At the moment? No. But we have time to consider the delver's true weaknesses. He is unwilling to take a life unless it is absolutely necessary, and he is reluctant to even cause injury. He is selfless and would be willing to take risks to save others. We may even be able to use Petiole as bait. The delver needs to return the old elf to the dwarves or he knows a conflict will arise between them and the elves. With the proper strategy, we might be able to revive..."
Rivira and Neltus rushed into the dining room where the serps had gathered, interrupting Macheve's remarks.
"They're here!" Rivira shouted.
"What are you talking about?" Desiv ordered. "Who's here?"
"Jure," Neltus replied. "Rivira felt him first... her connection to the blue magic... but I noticed him too. He was riding the lines of magic. Didn't you sense him?"
Macheve looked to Desiv and then spoke the obvious.
"The delver lied."
#
Petiole ceased walking the circular path around his room. Rather than stalk his usual trail toward the window and then move away, he remained motionless in front of the glass. He stared out to the sea, but it did not make him smile.
He was unhappy and growing more dissatisfied by the moment. He had issued two proclamations to punish the dwarves, but he received no further reports as to the results of his edicts. He wanted to know if the cave dwelling criminals had accepted his orders or if punishment was in order. The serps, however, had been ignoring his requests for information, and the two remaining dieruhne guards did not respond to any of his questions or commands.
Petiole was beginning to feel unappreciated. He wasn't a prisoner, but he was certainly being treated with a lack of respect. Old insecurities crept back into his mind. He wondered if the serps were preparing to discard him, to send him away just as the members of his elf camp had done.
The consideration left him cold... and angry, but it was his fear and confusion that held him still. The old elf seethed as he stood alone in the room. He tried to consider his alternatives, but his mind grew cloudy. Each time he thought of stepping away from the window, uncertainty kept him in place. He began to believe if he looked away from the sea, he would never see it again.
Hoping to regain a sense of usefulness, he attempted to create a third declaration, but the words and substance eluded him. He wished to extend new restrictions upon the dwarves, but he could not summon a single idea.
Thinking of the dwarves only added to his agitation, but as his mind turned to more violent considerations, he finally came up with a notion of his own. He wondered if it was time to simply declare war on the dwarf villains and be done with it. Once a state of war existed, any action would be defensible, even dropping shadow tree seeds on their cities. When the other elves realized that annihilating the dwarves was the only answer, his honor would be restored and he could return to the elves.
That thought almost brought the smile back to his face, but before he could crack even a slight grin, he noticed strange movement within the trees outside. He saw several figures dart out onto the open high ground between the mansion and the sea. They looked like elves and they carried bows with arrows at the ready. It appeared they were preparing to fire, and the old elf froze in fear of being assassinated. Unsure of what to do, he considered shouting for the dieruhnes, but a commotion on the roof directly overhead kept him quiet. Right when he looked up at the ceiling, Petiole's dreams of declaring war ended with the destruction of the window before him.
Dozens of arrows struck with such delicate precision that not one shaft even grazed the old elf. The well-placed projectiles crashed through the window in a perfect pattern, and the entire sheet of glass broke away intact. The large section fell upon Petiole without a single sharp edge slicing into his skin. The flat of the glass pane thumped against his face and chest and then fell fast to the ground.
Just as the glass shattered at Petiole's feet, two ropes dropped down from the roof directly past the gaping hole that used to be a window. Two nimble figures raced downward on the dangling lines like playful gremplings sliding down narrow tree trunks. When they passed the opening, two elf guards took firm hold of Petiole and pulled him through the destroyed window frame.
The old elf didn't even have time to shout for help. In an instant, he was in the hands of invaders and taken from his secure room. As the elf guards propelled downward, Petiole cringed in fear at the appr
oaching ground. He believed the quick descent would shatter his bones, but just before his feet touched down, the elf guards pulled to a halt.
With but a meager distance to the ground, the elves released their hold on the ropes and dropped softly upon the grass. They maintained a firm grasp on Petiole as they rushed him away from the large mansion. In order to move swiftly, they kept the old elf's feet in the air as they raced around the corner and toward the trees.
Birk Grund stepped out into the opening and issued immediate orders.
"Get him to the gathering point and bind him. Stand guard over him until I return."
Petiole believed he recognized both the voice and the face of his captor. He struggled with a memory, and he blurted out a name that flashed through his mind.
"Birk Grund?"
The captain did not have time to respond, for he knew the encounter was far from over. He rushed off with his mind focused on what he knew would follow. Though they had secured their target, they still had to deal with the serps' response.
Petiole also was not given a chance to say anything further, even as his memory of the elf captain grew stronger. He looked back at the mansion with growing dismay. He realized immediately his captors were not benefactors—far from being sympathetic elves seeking to return him to his camp in Dark Forest. He recognized the guards that held him, just as he recalled Birk Grund. They were responsible for turning him over to the dwarves and he could tell by the way they handled him, they were intent on doing it again.
He couldn't shout, couldn't find the strength. If he had been on his feet, his legs would have collapsed under him, but the elf guards held him aloft as they carried him further away from his sanctuary. His anger at the serps disintegrated and was quickly replaced with a sense of absolute dread.
The memory of his cell in the dwarf dungeon flooded his mind and unleashed a harsh terror deep in his soul. He couldn't go back, wouldn't go back. He could not face the desolate chamber of stone ever again, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
In a fit of sheer hopelessness, his consciousness receded to the darkest corner it could find. He went almost completely limp. The only movement he made registered in his legs. Even as he was held suspended above the ground, his feet began to shuffle in the air. If he was placed on the ground, he would have begun to walk in a circle, the same circular path his feet had scuffed into the stone floor of his cell in Dunop.
