Delver Magic: Book 06 - Pure Choice

by Jeff Inlo

  The two elves casting their magic upon the obstacle increased the output of their spells to the maximum. Spurred on by the other elves around them, they unleashed the full limits of their power. The green and yellow energy poured against the solid blackness.

  The hot, heavy air within the seemingly solid dome began to shudder, and every elf under the obstruction felt the outpouring of magic. Their eyes were drawn to the flare of golden optimism that struck out at the darkness that imprisoned them. Each elf offered up the magic within to the cause, and a torrent of energy flowed across the rocky ground and into the core of Haven's spirit.

  Sensing a possible breakthrough, Scheff decided to add all of his might to the effort. Rather than offer it to the two elves casting green and yellow, he decided to cast his own spell. He knew that his violet hue, the power of the storm, could create dark clouds and block out the influence of the light, but the storm created its own fury, its own lightning. He would not diminish Haven's power, but add to it in a way that would bring it crashing through the black energy before them.

  Throwing his hands together, he warned the monitors to beware. His spell would be devastating and he would not restrain himself in the slightest. A perfect circle of dark purple formed around his clenched fists that he held together in front of him. When he flicked opened his hands, the violet power flashed away from him in the form of pure magical lightning. It struck the golden light from Haven and formed a crackling flame of violet fire that erupted across the entire barrier.

  Just as it appeared the barrier would crumble and the elves would succeed, their captor arrived under the darkened dome. The human sorcerer acted instantaneously, shouting out strange words and casting a perfect ring of dark energy that initially surrounded his body.

  The ring expanded from the sorcerer. It moved just above the ground. It rushed outward like the ever expanding ripple on a lake surface, passing through every elf as well as every rock and tree under the crumbling dome. It struck the failing obstacle at its base and then rose up the barrier wall until it came together into a single black ball at the center of the dome overhead. The dark magic reformed the wall, brought it back to its original strength. The barrier returned to its translucent form as the elves could see beyond its edges once more.

  The sorcerer did not bother to examine his work. He knew the barrier had been reformed, and even a brief moment of inspection would be a waste of his time and an indication of insecurity.

  He walked brazenly among the elves, past several that carried bows and swords. It was not his muscular body that gave him his confidence, but his full understanding of the situation. He showed not a care for his safety, for he walked in his realm, a land of darker magic, and the energy that fed him would always keep him safe from such inferior weapons.

  He ignored the elf elder as well as the captain of the elf guard. His attention turned instead toward the spell casters.

  "Impressive," he offered, but not as a compliment to their ability. It was spoken as a statement of fact. "You almost broke through. I would have thought it would have taken more time."

  The human turned to the two elves that monitored the activity. He looked at them with his sunken eyes casting a near indifferent gaze over his own rather large nose. He might have found tedium in addressing what he viewed inferior beings, but he could not completely suppress his curiosity.

  "You chose a caster of storm first," the sorcerer spoke with a tone of apparent interest, but with an expression of apathy as well. "Why him? Was it the color of his natural magic or his ability to cast in a perfect circle?"

  The two monitors did not respond. They looked toward Birk and Shantree, waiting for instruction from their leaders before acting on their own.

  The sorcerer sighed. He wondered why such stubborn beings could not grasp the full measure of the situation. It was beneath him to make threats, but for some reason, he could not escape the necessity. He knew which elf he needed to address, knew the one with full authority over the rest. He did not look toward Shantree Wispon, but he made his deliberations clear.

  "You are the elf elder. Instruct them to answer me or I will obliterate ten of your youngest elves. And I assure you, I do not bluff."

  "Answer him," Shantree said with a nod, trying to appear firm, but truly fearful of what the human might do if crossed.

  "It was both," one of the monitors finally replied. "His skill is unmatched, and the dark violet hue of his magic is the closest to the ebony aura of the field."

  The sorcerer shook his head.

  "There is no comparison between the two. Black is the only pure energy. Everything else is diluted in some fashion. What is violet but a mix of red and blue?" He paused as his curiosity returned. "Is that why you followed with the blue magic?"

  The elf monitors did not enjoy the discussion, but they willingly obeyed the commands of the camp elder. One answered with honesty, but without any indication of pleasure in the debate.

  "Partially, but also the power of water compliments the surge of the storm."

  "You hoped to strengthen the pressure of the spell?"

  "Essentially, yes."

  "But then why follow with crimson power?"

  "We felt we needed to utilize all the hues. That seemed the next logical choice."

  "Logical? Not at all. Red magic leads to orange, the power of fire, and fire and water do not work well in concert. They oppose each other."

  The elf saw it differently.

  "Crimson energy is the magic of the land, and in the proper sequence, it would compliment blue magic. We ended the violet magic in order to allow the red and blue to work separately." To confirm his argument, the monitor declared a simple truth. "It was not the orange magic of fire that we utilized next. The red and blue magic set the stage for the emerald power."

  To the sorcerer, the results indicated the folly of the decision, and there was no argument.

  "And when you added green, your assault weakened almost immediately," the human scoffed. "Why debate the matter when you already know the results? You can't be that ignorant."

  "But the yellow energy returned the green power to its original strength," the other monitor defended the decision.

  "A wasted step. Foolishness." The sorcerer sighed again and shook his head with frustration as if he was arguing with children. "If you were going to start with violet, blue was the proper choice to follow, but then you should have moved directly to the golden energy. Utilizing red and then turning to green magic was a mistake. The inability to recognize your blunder simply makes it that much more glaring."

  Birk Grund did not care for the human sorcerer's tone and appreciated the direction of the conversation even less. He decided remaining quiet was no longer acceptable.

  "Then maybe you should allow us to try again," Birk stated firmly. "We will gladly utilize the sequence you suggest and perhaps the wall will fall, if you do not interfere."

  Turning toward the voice, the muscular man with dirty blonde hair smiled, but it was not a grin of good humor. It revealed a twisted amusement.

  "Ah, the captain of the elf guard decides to enter the conversation. Birk Grund, isn't it?"

  "It is, and may I ask your name?"

  "You may. I will even answer. It's Ansas."

  "You speak it as if I should know you. Should I?"

  "I have dealt with an elf from your camp before. I was wondering if she might have spoken of me."

  "Which elf?"

  "That would be giving away too much. I can already tell you don't know me. That's enough for me."

  Rather than press the issue, Birk decided to seek other answers, ones he believed held far more importance.

  "Clearly you constructed this barrier. I assume you are the one that brought us here."

  "You assume correctly."

  "Why?"

  "Two reasons. One has to do with the elf I have already mentioned, the one I had dealings with in the past."

  Birk suddenly realized the name of the elf w
as far more important than he previously guessed and attempted to rectify his mistake.

  "You did not tell me the name of the elf."

  Ansas continued speaking as if he had not been interrupted.

  "The second reason has to do with personal desires. I need magic casters, ones that are proficient and remain focused on their inherent hue. In that regard, I should thank you because you have made my task in that respect so much easier."

  Ansas abruptly disregarded the elf captain and turned back to the spell casters near the barrier.

  "I have need of you and you," the sorcerer revealed as he nodded to Scheff and Haven. "You might also be of use," he continued as he looked to the elf who cast emerald magic.

  Without word or warning, he brought his hands together and cast a spell in a single heartbeat. The ebony magic shot from his fingers and created a dark ring high above his head. Three darkened shadows dropped from the ring and fell upon the three elves the sorcerer had indicated were deserving of his attention. The blackness fell upon the magic casters like a heavy mist but quickly dissolved away, leaving nothing behind. The elves were gone.

  Birk needed nothing further to act.

  "Take him down!" the captain shouted to guards he had stationed near the point of assault.

  Several arrows split the air before the echo of the order died away. Unfortunately, they would never reach their target. A dark wind rose up from the ground beneath Ansas' feet and turned into a swirling mass that surrounded the sorcerer. The spinning force pulverized the arrows into dust before they came close to their mark.

  Another eight elves rushed toward the sorcerer with swords drawn, sprinting at full speed. Though they could not match the speed of a delver, they still moved with an elf's quickness, and they raced across the hard ground at a swiftness that would surprise most humans.

  Ansas, however, disregarded the charging elves, didn't reveal alarm for his safety or even mild concern over the attack. As he examined the other elves that worked to destroy the magical wall, the black twister that surrounded him expanded in a mighty rush of outward force. While it passed through every elf around him, it only bore the brunt of its strength on those with swords drawn.

  Every charging elf was tossed backwards like dry grass thrown into a gale force wind. Their bodies landed hard on the ground and they suffered greatly from badly bruised flesh and harshly broken bones.

  The human sorcerer spoke as if nothing had happened. He looked upon the elf named Flower.

  "You are strong, but you cast in crimson energy. I have no need of you. I also don't need the one that casts in blue, but the six of you," he paused as he placed his attention on the six elves that had fed the spell casters with energy. "You might be of use. I have questions for you."

  Ansas cast another spell and a slightly larger dark ring formed over his head. Another grouping of shadows dropped from the ebony circle and fell upon the six elves standing behind the remaining spell casters. They disappeared just as the others.

  Birk burned with fury, but he contained his anger. He stepped up to the sorcerer and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. He did not know if the threat might lead to his destruction, but he would not stand idle, would not cower to the powerful magician.

  "Return them," he demanded in a low growl.

  Ansas gave but one brief glance at the elf captain and then moved past him as if he did not exist. He stepped directly up to Shantree Wispon.

  "Are you still concerned with the loss of magic?" he asked.

  Shantree said nothing. She stared back at the sorcerer with an expression of resolved opposition.

  "You worry too much," Ansas continued. "If I wanted you all dead, it would have already happened. I didn't bring you here to die. I know you need energy to survive. I shall make sure you have enough."

  As Ansas raised his hand, she tried to back away.

  "I do not..."

  She could not finish. Her body became stiff even as she could actually feel her soul tremble within her.

  Ansas did not ask for her permission. He simply forced his magic into her, whether she wanted it or not. It would be enough to keep the elf camp alive, for at least a while, and that was all he cared about.

  "Use it wisely."

  Chapter 12

  Ansas faded out of sight, turning first into a gray haze—like little ink spots merged into a silhouette of his solid form—and then dissolving completely away. While his physical presence might have departed, he left a wake strong enough so that none would doubt his resolve or his authority. The barrier that surrounded the elves remained completely intact, as strong as it was before the elf spell casters began their assault. He also left his captives with a new reckoning of his intentions and a clear memory of his authority.

  While their imprisonment continued unabated, the elves could not deny the sorcerer's ability to come and go as he pleased. Somehow the barrier confined them to that space, neutralized every attempt to teleport or create a portal, but Ansas was under no such constraints. The force field represented a stark domination that would crush their spirit, yet bend to the sorcerer's will.

  The elves also understood, without doubt, that their options of attack dwindled down to nothing. Their weapons were useless against the sorcerer. Arrows could not penetrate Ansas' defenses, and swords were only useful if they could get near. Those that had attacked him had paid the price and found themselves in broken heaps, scattered across the rocky grounds of the dark realm.

  With physical conflict rendered futile, a magical clash seemed the only alternative. Sadly, their efforts in that regard did not hold any greater hope. Their foe revealed far more power than they could level individually or even collectively. Further, their most proficient magic casters had been stolen away by a wave of a hand and one simple spell.

  What was left for them to do?

  Lose hope.

  And so they did, and in great numbers. They cast disbelieving glances at the ground where the evil magic caster disappeared and then at the resurgent barrier they knew would not fall. The elf camp was trapped by a power they could not match and held by a foe they could not defeat.

  While it was the elf elder's responsibility to lead her camp, Shantree Wispon initially disregarded the devastating despair that fell over those that remained imprisoned. She made no rallying plea, no forceful speech. Instead, she acted with all haste and focused upon the welfare of those that required immediate aid.

  She raced to each fallen elf who had succumbed to Ansas' force blast. She quickly cast spells of healing to mend their bones and restore their flesh. While the other elves had given up much of their stored energy in the assault against the barrier, Shantree suddenly had more than enough magic within her, a token gesture from Ansas. It was energy she could use for the benefit of her camp, but she instinctively knew it was no benevolent gift.

  Deep within, the elf elder felt the foreign energy make its own place within her magical core. Shantree instinctively knew she could utilize it, but only to a degree. She understood that Ansas infused her with magic for his own purposes, not hers. He wanted the elves to remain alive, for he was not through with them. He instilled within her the means to heal and to nourish, but he did not share her compassionate motives.

  It pained her to aid the sorcerer, to be part of his cruel designs, but she could not deny her basic desire to keep her followers alive. She attempted to concentrate only on the good she could accomplish and on the elf lives she could save, but a shadow crossed her soul with every spell that she cast. Trying to blot out the sorcerer's desires was an impossible task, for the dark magic within her reinforced Ansas' intentions.

  With all of the injured elves restored to a healthy state, Shantree turned her attention to their meager food and water supplies. She directed her newfound source of energy toward the small well the elves had dug. Previously, the scarce magic absorbed from the realm was utilized to invigorate the flow and to purify the stagnant water. The elder fed the filters that magically
cleansed the thick sludge bubbling deep in the pits of the dark realm.

  She then concentrated on the plants that offered fruits and nuts, life that was coaxed out of the barren soil by the grace of emerald energy that was so prevalent in the elves. She enriched the soil, strengthened the roots, and energized the growth of each stem. In mere moments, the potential harvest from the plants tripled.

  The elves would not starve, nor would they suffer from lack of clean water, but Shantree also knew they would not escape. She had hoped the immediate address of basic needs would encourage her camp, keep optimism alive, but it was near dead within her, a victim of the power that Ansas forced inside of her.

  It was not evil she felt within her, but rather more like capitulation. The magic violated both her body and spirit. It took residence in her core without her permission, and it would stay there until she used it according to its conditions.

  Unable to cast out the energy in any other form, she resigned herself to the grim situation. The elves of her camp would remain trapped in the dark realm and she would serve, in some respects, as a tool for the conquering sorcerer. Needing to address the full scope of the predicament, she moved with a quick step—far faster than she had walked in many cycles of the seasons—and took council with the elf guard captain.

  Birk Grund eyed the elf elder with more concern than suspicion, but he could not shake the image of what he had seen. The sorcerer had placed magic within Shantree, energy that she appeared to use for the benefit of the camp, but he needed to gauge the possibility of potential corruption.

  "What did he do to you?" he asked with respect, but also with an expression that demanded an answer. If Shantree's allegiance had been compromised, he would have to know.

  "He fed me with his magic. That is all I can tell. I do not believe there are any malicious intentions within the energy, other than a limit to its potential use. As he said, he wants to keep us alive. That is what the magic is for. I cannot deny that, in some ways, I am helping him, but I would do no less with any energy available to me."