by Jeff Inlo
Chapter 17
They said nothing, delver and elf, as they were escorted roughly through the corridors of the palace prison. They did not struggle. Each felt the strength of the dwarf hands that held them. They would have been tossed about like rag dolls had they chosen to resist, even the delver. Ryson's gift was in his dexterity, his agility, not in strength. He could avoid the grip of a dwarf, but not break it.
The dwarf escorts brought them before a stone door. Their grip tightened on the captives as one saw to the opening of the cell. Both Ryson and Lief felt dwarf fingers crushing their flesh right to the bone. The release of the pressure was welcome, until heavy hands thrust them both into the darkness of the cave-like hold.
"I don't understand!" Ryson proclaimed to Lief once they were thrown into the dank cell. His statement was punctuated by the heavy closing of the stone door. Rock thumped against rock just before a single click testified to the locking of their prison. The delver looked to the door with abhorrence. Small cracks of light pierced the edges of the door, an accent to their predicament. "How can she still think we're responsible? How can she just throw us in here?"
Lief appeared more concerned with the conditions of their imprisonment. He stared up at the dark stone ceiling overhead. He pressed his hands against the thick walls which surrounded him. He exhaled heavily as if trying to rid himself of a tightening of his chest. A groan escaped his lips.
Concern for Lief replaced Ryson's bafflement. "Are you alright?"
"Stupid question," Lief mumbled.
Ryson agreed. "You're right. It was. What can I do for you?"
"Give me space. I just need a chance to adjust."
"Right."
Ryson backed away quickly. He did not pressure the elf with further questions. Instead, he took the chance to examine the cell. His eyes bore through the darkness and immediately fell upon the slumped figure residing upon a flattened piece of stone.
"Jon?"
No answer.
"I think that's Jon."
At the moment, Lief did not care.
Ryson took four bounding steps across the cell. His presence was not acknowledged by the dwarf. Other than heavy, uncertain breathing, Jon made no movement at all. The delver needed to bend over to get a clear look at the dethroned dwarf king.
Dirt and grime adhered to Jon's gaunt face like slime on a stagnate pool. His expression was vacant. His arms hung from his shoulders like limp clumps of seaweed. His hands were thin, almost bony and not at all like the powerful hands Ryson remembered. His back remained hunched over even as Ryson placed a palm on his shoulder. Jon showed no sign of sensing the delver's touch. There was little spark of life to generate any reaction whatsoever. His eyes were open, but he chose not to see.
"Jon?" Ryson whispered.
Still, the dwarf did not respond.
Ryson shook him gently. The dwarf only slumped further. Any stimulus which would bring him back to reality was unwelcome.
Ryson stood up straight, took his hand from the dwarf and placed it on his own forehead. "I can't take much more of this."
The delver stiffened. He kicked once at the rocks by his feet before returning his hand to the dwarf. This time he took hold of the dwarf's tattered shirt at the shoulder. There was plenty of cloth to grip. The shirt was loose and roomy around Jon's neck as the dwarf was now simply wasting away.
"Jon! don't you remember me? It's Ryson."
One last time, the name of the delver stirred the dwarf's memory. He lifted his head slightly. He did not look at the figure before him. His head turned slowly from side to side. He blinked his eyes over and over as if trying to see through a cloud of fog. He started to slump again, welcoming the hazy mist of near unconsciousness.
Ryson fought him. He pulled at the cloth, trying to lift the dwarf off the slab, but the shirt began to slip over Jon's head. Ryson released his grip, but threw his arms to Jon's sides. He shook the dwarf more vigorously.
Jon resisted reality. He moved with Ryson's shake as if he were nothing more than a pile of jelly.
"This is ridiculous." Frustration bubbled from the delver.
"He's given up," Lief spoke up. The elf had found a place in the middle of the enclosed cavern, an area which gave him the most available space. He continued to struggle with the growing dread of his claustrophobia, but he managed to display some semblance of control. His hands closed into tight fists. Each breath heaved his chest with vigor. His gaze shifted uneasily about the all-encompassing rock as if it could not be trusted. Still, he spoke with a hardened understanding of Jon's true plight. "He does not want to believe this is happening anymore than I do. Give me a few days down here and I will probably look the same."
"You can't mean that. Look at him. He hasn't been locked in here that long."
"His troubles exceed the time of his imprisonment."
Ryson would not listen. He shook the dwarf harder. "Come on, Jon! It's me! Don't you remember?"
"He probably remembers more than he wants to," Lief argued.
"So what?" Ryson nearly exploded. "He can't just give up like this."
"He has and I don't think you can blame him."
Ryson released the dwarf and walked away in near disgust. "Sure I can."
Lief admonished the delver with a harsh tone. "He has lost his brother. His father has left him. The throne was forced upon him and then taken away by his own mother. Think about that. Can you still blame him?"
Ryson was in no mood to look at things logically. "I don't know. I just don't think he should sit there like a toadstool. We may need his help."
"Help for what? What is there left for us to do? You don't really think we have any options available to us, do you?"
The question struck at Ryson like a hammer. He looked at Lief, he looked at Jon, and he looked upon the tons of rock that surrounded him.
"We can't get out of here, can we?"
"Not likely."
Ryson would not accept that answer. He shook his head with vehemence. "There has to be some chance of escape. They have to open the door at some time to feed us."
Lief almost laughed. "They do? Why? Are we honored guests?"
"They can't just leave us here to starve."
"Of course they can."
Ryson stared in disbelief at the stone door. "No one can be that evil."
Lief breathed with a sardonic laugh. "She's mad, insane. There's no telling what she might do, but I seriously doubt we will ever see the surface again. Look at Jon. When do you think he had his last meal?"
"Maybe they'll come to question us."
"About what?" Lief posed.
"I don't know. Godson, Lief, help me out here. There's got to be something else we can do."
"Unless you know of a way to break through rock, there is nothing we can do."
Ryson's eyes flared. "Stop it. Don't you know what you're saying? If we've failed, the dwarves will attack Burbon, and probably Connel again as well. You heard her. She wants to go after my family. She won't stop until everyone in Burbon and Connel is dead."
Ryson stepped closer to Lief. He didn't care about the elf's desire for space. The thought of Linda in danger fueled the fire of his spirit. "We can't let that happen. I don't care what we have to do."
"Do not be so certain of Burbon's destruction," Lief attempted to assuage the delver. "It is preparing for the attack. They have a chance at survival."
The thought did little to comfort the delver. Ryson focused on his own desire to help instead. "We don't give up, not as long as Yave wants to continue this. Do you hear me?"
"I hear you, but I have not heard your solution to our current predicament. I would welcome any suggestion to be free of this prison."
Ryson caught his anger. He did not apologize for his outburst, but he turned away from the elf. "They're going to open that door. When they do, I'm going to be past them so fast they won't know what to think."
"I hope they do
open the door," Lief agreed.
"This doesn't make any sense," Ryson continued to argue. "Why didn't the sword work? It did something. You saw her face, didn't you?"
"I did."
"When she held it, something was revealed to her. Why didn't she see the truth?"
"Maybe she did."
"Huh?"
Lief did not hesitate in explaining. He had been considering this ever since they were taken from the throne room. He offered his own conclusions as he constantly grappled with the enclosed space. At times his voice labored and his attention drifted to the encircling stone, but he maintained enough composure to offer the only plausible solution.
"I don't think anyone would deny that the sword did something in Yave's hands, but the enchantment of the sword is new and unknown. In your possession, it somehow gained the power to bestow knowledge to the holder. You once said it saved you from a vampire. When you gripped the handle, you simply knew how to deal with the monster."
"That's the truth," Ryson admitted.
"I do not deny it. I also know that Tun understood the true danger of the sphere after holding the sword. He no longer argued over our course of action. He agreed to journey to Sanctum, reveal the dwarf secret, and help destroy the sphere. He did so even though he knew the magic would be free again. The sword told him what must be done."
The delver continued to agonize over the sword's apparent failure. "I know that, too. So why didn't it work with Yave? Why doesn't she realize that what she's doing is wrong."
"I believe it did work with Yave, but not as we hoped. We wanted the sword to remove Yave's anger, to show her that her desire for revenge was misplaced. That may have simply been beyond the power of the sword. The enchantment does not seem to be of sheer truth, but of knowledge. In my mind, that is the only explanation. I ask that you look only to Tun's experience and you will probably agree. After grasping the sword, Tun knew the sphere was a danger to the dwarves, but he never released his mistrust of our intentions. He doubted us to the very end. Don't you remember?"
"Yes, but ..."
"But nothing. If the sword had the power to reveal all truth, Tun would have cast aside his mistrust over our intentions. He never did. The sword simply made him understand the sphere was a true danger to all the dwarves. That is what made him agree to help us. Nothing made him trust us."
Ryson shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. How could the sword reveal to him knowledge about the sphere, but not knowledge of our true intentions?"
"I have no idea. I am not a spell caster. I have no desire to be one. I only know that it didn't, and you know it, too. Tun never trusted us. I don't know why, but even though he knew the sphere had to be destroyed, he held to his suspicions. The sword's enchantment is beyond my reckoning. I do, however believe there is consistency in its workings. Just as it did with Tun, I believe the sword imparted knowledge upon Yave. She now knows what truly happened in Sanctum. I believe that."
"You think so? Then why doesn't she call this off? Why did she throw us in this cell? Why does she leave her son to be nothing but a mushroom?"
"Because the sword will not change her interpretation of people's intentions. Think of what happened in Sanctum. Can you remember Tun's death?"
"Of course I can."
The elf detailed his own memories as he tried to forget the surrounding rock. "If the sword allowed Yave to see that moment exactly as it happened, what would she see? She would know the sphere kept the algors from controlling the sand giants. She would also see that Tun struck upon the sand giant on his own, but what else would she see? She would see us, you and me, Holli and the algors, unable to stop the giant from crushing Tun. She would see the algors unable to heal her son. She would know all of that now. How would she interpret it?"
"We tried to help Tun. We didn't just let him get killed," Ryson protested.
"We both know that, but she does not. She did not know our intentions. She does not trust us. Just like Tun didn't trust us. Tun held to his doubts even after holding the sword. Now, so does Yave. That is why we are now in this prison."
Lief exhaled again. He rubbed his hands together still trying to ignore the stone which seemed to close upon him.
Ryson's frustration doubled. "So we came here for nothing? We never had a chance, is that what you're saying?"
"No, we had a chance. For a brief moment we almost succeeded. You said so yourself. You saw Yave's face as she held the sword. The sword imparted the knowledge upon her. It did all that you could have hoped for. For one brief moment, Yave might have even understood that no one was responsible for Tun's death. That one moment of confusion and despair on her face, that was our chance. Unfortunately, it did not last. She simply chose to cling to her anger. We could not control that. Often knowledge and emotion do not lead to the same results."
Ryson hung his head. "So that's it? What a waste."
"You don't believe that," Lief corrected. "It was not a waste to try. Too many people agreed to help you for that to be true."
"I don't know what I believe anymore. I just know that people are now in danger because of me. And there's nothing I can do about it. Maybe I should have done nothing, stayed in Burbon, helped fight off the dwarves and leave Yave to her madness."
"And let Dunop be destroyed?"
"Better Dunop than Burbon."
"You are speaking out of frustration and anger."
"What else should I speak with?"
"You are taking blame for no reason. Your reason for coming here was of the highest virtue. You wished to save others."
"And now I might have sacrificed others."
"You came here to try and prevent further tragedy. You did all you could and more. No one will deny that."
"Why should I care? You think we'll be left to rot in this dungeon."
"I doubt we will get a chance to rot."
The ominous tone of the elf's voice brought revelation to the delver. In an instant, he recalled what Dunop now faced, what he and Lief now faced. The words fell from his lips like recalling a nightmare. "The shadow trees."
Lief nodded. "Petiole will drop the seeds for certain when we don't return. That may be your consolation. Though I see no hope for ourselves, I see hope for Burbon that you are unwilling to give. Yave has only a small amount of time before the shadow trees fall upon her palace. And the algors will send their army of sand giants. The dwarf army will not have an endless opportunity to attack Burbon. Dunop will be destroyed. Unfortunately, so will we."
Ryson considered his plight. He cared little for his own safety, though thoughts of being consumed by shadow trees left a cold shiver in his bones. He also felt sadness for leaving without seeing Linda one last time. The thought of her alone opened a gap in his spirit which led to even more chills. He took solace in only one thought, the fact that his own end would mean Burbon would be vulnerable for only a short duration, a few days. When the seeds fall upon Dunop, threats to Burbon, and to Linda, would end.
His comfort was short-lived. He recalled the faces of the dwarves he had encountered during his passage to the palace. Did they deserve the fate of the shadow trees? No. They were as innocent as the people in Burbon. Despondency seemed to bite at his heels.
A look upon Jon, however, brought fight to his spirit. He thought of Burbon, of Linda, of seeing her again. "I won't just give up. There has to be some way out of here."
"I am open for suggestions."
"Well, for one thing we can hope the sand giants reach us before the shadow trees."
Lief considered the thought. It held merit. "That may indeed give us a chance. The sand giants have the power to break through this door. They might ignore us. Their single-mindedness might keep them from viewing us as an enemy."
"That's what I'm hoping."
"Of course it won't help Jon."
Ryson's spirits dropped slightly. "I didn't think of that."
"You will have to consider it. I know y
ou well enough to realize that you won't just leave him here to an attacking sand giant. In his current state, he would be helpless. If we are indeed lucky enough to be freed by the giants, we must consider a way to protect Jon. Then, there is also the shadow trees. They may be dropped before the sand giants reach this place. The trees may not be able to break through rock, but their branches can slip beneath the cracks about the door. We will not be safe in here."
"I know. I'm just hoping we don't have to deal with that. I'm counting on the sand giants first or the dwarves themselves opening that door. After all, Petiole gave us some time. That may be what saves our lives. If we can get out of here, we still may have a chance of stopping this. I can retrieve my sword. Maybe put it in the hands of some of the other dwarf leaders. I don't know. I'll think of something. I just hope that Holli and Sy can fight off any dwarf attacks until then."
