Delver Magic II: Throne of Vengeance by Jeff Inlo (books for 5 year olds to read themselves .TXT) 📖

>“I was expecting a tighter fit. Why did the dwarves make this tunnel so large when they’re so short?”

“This tunnel was used to transport timber obtained from us to the city below. The dwarves would also bring up stone they would trade to us in return. To allow the passage of such large material, the path needed to be wide.”

A faint smell of smoke drifted up from deep down the tunnel and caught Ryson’s attention. “I smell smoke.”

“The dwarves burn small fires for light as well as using the light gems. These tunnels serve many purposes including air flow.”

The elf was not allowed to continue. Portions of rock slid away. Hidden compartments and tunnel offshoots were revealed immediately as a dozen dwarves fell upon the elf and delver. They stood with malice as Lief and Ryson froze. One finally barked a command.

“Unfasten your belt and drop the sword,” a female warrior growled.

Ryson did not move his hand.

“Are you deaf, human?”

“I’m not human. I’m delver. My name is Ryson Acumen.”

Near bedlam. Some dwarves advanced, some lowered their weapons. All shouted.

Ryson stared down the female warrior that seemed to be in command, tenuous as it might have been. He dared her to attack. “You seem to know of my name. Then you must also know I was with Tun and Jon Folarok at Sanctum. I am here to surrender to your queen.”

“Do not touch him!” the commander hissed to the other dwarves.

Ryson responded with even greater authority. “I wouldn’t touch my friend, either. The elf is unarmed. He is Lief Woodson. We were both at Sanctum. We both witnessed Tun Folarok’s death.”

A call came from the dwarf pack. “Lies.”

Ryson kept his gaze locked upon the warrior. “The sword is proof. How much do you know of what happened in Sanctum?”

“Enough,” the female snarled in reply.

“Then you know of the sword’s enchantment. I’m going to unsheathe it now to show you. Then it goes back to my belt. Nothing more.”

Ryson did not wait for the warrior’s approval. Slowly but deftly, his right hand grasped the hilt of his sword. The blade glided free from its sheath. The light within the cave doubled and redoubled. There was no denying the source. The blade glowed like fire. Ryson held it aloft for but a moment. With delver quickness, he returned it to its scabbard. He stood empty handed, the sword at his belt, waiting for the dwarf reply.

“I will take the sword,” the warrior claimed.

“It is not for you,” Ryson replied with a slight laugh.

“You scorn me?”

“You’re not taking this sword from me.”

Lief watched silently. He was a secondary player in this scene. Though the dwarves kept a suspicious eye upon him, their attention bounded over the delver.

“You will stop me?”

“If I have to. I’m surrendering, but not to you. I’m surrendering to Yave.”

“Yave is not here.”

The note of contempt was not lost upon the delver. “So one of the separatist followers has no love for the queen? You would care little about her wishes?”

The warrior shot back quickly. “You think I should just let you pass with a sword at your side? Disarm. Now!”

“No.”

The dwarf’s eyes widened. “This is not a debate.”

“I know, but you don’t seem to realize that.”

The group of dwarves growled with contempt. They shouted out their own desires with rabid fury.

“Kill him now.”

“Take the sword from him.”

“Let me.”

The female waved her hand at the others. “Be quiet.”

Ryson summed up the situation quickly. “I know you can take the sword by force. You can kill me now, but that’s not the issue, unless of course you want to displease the queen. I’m here to surrender to Yave. Don’t you think she’ll want to hear that from me? There are enough dwarves here to relay this news to her. Word will reach her that Ryson Acumen and Lief Woodson were at her door. She’ll want to know why they weren’t brought before her. She’ll demand to know. What will you tell her?”

The dwarf woman hesitated. She looked about the collection of scouts, guards, and warriors. Some would keep their mouths shut. They were loyal to the separatists, not the queen, but not all of them. A few might speak of this incident. If so, she would be punished if she did not bring the delver to Yave. She succumbed, but not without assuming some authority. “I will bring you before the queen. You will follow my instructions, or I will kill you. Understand?”

“Understood,” Ryson mouthed with little respect.

The dwarf turned her back on the delver, a senseless display of disregard for the delver and the elf. She quickly issued commands as to those who would accompany her. She chose only two others, another display of disrespect. She commanded the remaining dwarves to stay at the entrance and watch for an elf assault.

Ryson and Lief followed the stodgy warrior down the tunnel and deeper into the ground. Ryson attempted to gauge their descent. He wondered how far down they would travel before they saw the first signs of the underground city. The thought filled him with anticipation. This was his first excursion into dwarf living space. He could only imagine what he might find.

Lief, however, found no appreciation in their journey.

“I hate tunnels,” he mumbled.

“Quiet!” the dwarf ordered.

Lief grunted.

Ryson noted more and more branches of the smaller corridors as they progressed down the main tunnel. He wanted to ask their purpose, but he knew the dwarf would not respond. He looked at signs upon the ground. He saw only a few faint tracks, as only the rock dust and loose dirt would allow for an imprint, but he noticed a level of wear. Some tunnels were obviously used more often than others. He also began to notice grooves and hollows penetrating the rock. It could have been caused by water erosion, but the lack of moisture removed that possibility. Ryson speculated that the use of heavy carts filled with gems and stone might have created the ridges. Stone wheels would easily grind away at the tunnel floor. Ryson could only wonder as to the frequency of repairs to these tunnels. Further down the main passage, Ryson began to notice the scent of smoke growing stronger. Also, the growing light in front of them began to rival the light from behind.

“More light gems from other tunnels and air holes converging at one center,” he speculated out loud.

“Quiet,” the dwarf reminded him. This time, however, she attempted to accentuate her command. She did not turn, but she intuitively knew the distance Ryson walked behind her. She thrust the butt-end of her axe handle backwards, intending to strike the delver in the midsection. Ryson saw her muscles tense just before she struck. He side stepped the blow with ease. The blunt handle bottom hit nothing but air. The warrior almost lost her grip, and certainly lost her composure. She twirled around with hot rage.

“Do you wish to attempt escape?”

“I wish to avoid being struck by your axe handle,” Ryson responded sternly.

The warrior hissed with fury. “I will ask the queen that I have the honor of executing you.”

Ryson wanted to respond with sarcasm, but he held his tongue. He simply looked away and waited for the dwarf to lead them again.

In but a few more steps, he noticed two large blocks of stone waiting like sentries at opposite sides of the tunnel. Their mass seemed to defy movement, but they hung from stone hinges as thick as Ryson’s chest. Once pushed together, they would form a nearly impenetrable barrier. Another contingent of dwarves waited here. They eyed the party with distrust.

As the woman warrior explained the situation, Ryson looked beyond the check point and down the final length of the passage. The path widened only slightly from side to side, but the ceiling sloped upward and out of his sight. The passage no longer appeared as a tunnel, but as an alley way. Instead of curved walls, the sides became blocked structures with doors and windows. The ground flattened out into a well-trodden street made of cobblestone. A small lamp post, apparently molded out of iron, stood with a small flickering light. As he considered the simple lamp post, he drank in the familiarity of these surroundings. It looked almost like a side street in Burbon, but instead of wooden buildings, everything was carved into or out of stone.

Ryson arched his neck to see further down the underground street. He saw small pockets of activity. The attention of other dwarves drew towards his position. This he did not like. The grumblings of these dwarves attracted others. The number of those fixated on him grew with every blink of the eye. They were not happy and he did not relish the thought of marching by them.

He looked back to the guards. They appeared unfazed by the growing mob. Were they certain the crowd would not take their prisoners? Or did they simply not care? Ryson wanted to hasten them, but he held his tongue. He knew if he spoke, they would only linger that much longer. He swallowed his apprehension as he looked to Lief to gauge the elf’s worries.

Lief appeared more concerned with the rock that surrounded him than with the growing number of dwarves. He looked up at the ceiling constantly as if he were afraid of its imminent collapse. Ryson wondered how long the elf could last down here before the claustrophobia took its toll. His thoughts were interrupted by a command of the female warrior.

“Wake up and move!”

He saw a desire to strike him in her eyes, but also hesitancy. She remembered her past failure and apparently did not want to appear foolish in front of the gatekeepers.

Ryson stepped forward and followed the warrior. Uneasiness gripped him as they headed directly toward the crowd. Thankfully, as he drew closer, he realized their faces were filled more with curiosity than hate. They did not intend to lash out or take him and Lief by force. He wondered how many of them knew what was truly happening.

As his eyes perused the onlookers, he drank in a wealth of new images for his delver mind. He saw the makeup of simple dwarf people. These were not warriors, not guards, and not royalty. They lived in this underground city like the human civilians lived in Burbon. He imagined the tasks they performed by their clothes and by what they carried. He saw them as rock cutters, jewelers, builders, and miners. As he looked upon dwarf children for the first time in his life, he saw them as families; husbands and wives, sons and daughters.

In this instant, he knew that what he was doing was right. These people were not responsible for the attacks on the algors and the elves. They did not commit the killing in Burbon or Connel. And they did not deserve to face the shadow trees. He walked on through Dunop with renewed confidence, believing it was not foolishness that brought him here.

Rather than worry over his own well-being, he now allowed himself the opportunity to gaze at the wonders of this underground city, a masterpiece of design and construction. Tunnels became streets and alleys, caverns became squares and plazas. Boulders the size of hills were hollowed out for merchant shops and homes. More than once he crossed a stone or iron bridge which spanned an underground river. To his surprise, he saw fish.

This revelation caused him to look for more of the unusual. Vegetation grew, both in the river and in the soil. It seemed impossible. They were far underground. He looked up, but there was no sky, only rock.