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

giants. They waited for the very last statue to drink the energy of their hands. They had exhausted every spark of magic that had taken many days and great effort to collect. As the algors do not store magic without great concentration, the labor had left them weary. Many would collapse even now had they not been so determined to carry out their own act of vengeance.

The memory of their dead haunted them. No other race could understand the hold of their community. Though through some twisted fate of nature they each craved individualism, they all belonged together. They can speak in unison, think as one. They can share thoughts, dream together. As much as they wish to be apart, they are all connected. No matter how far a single algor will travel out into the lonely desert, the hopes of this individual will always remain a part of the community.

It is only in this light that the severity of the dwarf attack could be understood. As hundreds of algor lives were vanquished in that moment of battle, the torturous pain was magnified for their community. The community felt the death of each individual. The survivors were not untouched, not at the moment of loss and not afterward. They shared the pain of the dwarf strikes during battle, and they shared the grief and despair when the battle had ended. Each loss equated to the removal of a family member to the whole. Each surviving algor felt the pain for each lost. There were no faceless, unknown victims. There was no detachment. Thus, the grief for each algor was multiplied many hundreds of times over.

It was with this pain that the algors now spoke, and they shouted out their grief in one chorus. The chant rang through the cave in simultaneous harmony. They spoke with pride as well as pain, and they gave their orders to the sand giants with honor to their own dead.

“You shall follow these tunnels to the dwarf city. You will attack them. You will continue your assault until the dwarf threat against us has ended. You will remain in the tunnels and in the dwarf city. You will guard against any other threat against us. You will do this to the last ounce of power within your stone bodies. You will do this for the dead, for our brothers and sisters.”

The sand giants made only one simple acknowledgment of the orders that would now dictate the rest of their existence. They turned to the tunnels and began to descend into the darkness. The command of the algors was now their sole drive. It could not be changed, it could not be reversed. They would seek out the dwarves and attack until they could find no more, or until they themselves were destroyed. Even the algors themselves could no longer revoke this command.

With purpose now driving them, the sand giants moved with greater ferocity. They pushed through the tunnels like thunder rolling across the sky. They ran into obstacles, cave-ins rigged by the dwarves and granite blocks stronger than their own sandstone bodies. They simply pushed on through falling stone and soil or dug around any obstacles they could not break or crush. The sentinels marched through the caverns with an image of the enemy that the algors had implanted in their limited awareness. They moved forward with the chant of the algors ever echoing in what served as their consciousness.

#

Petiole kicked a long staff that leaned against a tree. The thick, polished branch turned over twice before bouncing off another tree and rolling to a slow stop. He didn’t like staffs. They reminded him too much of Mappel.

Mappel always held that blasted staff of his, always walked about thumping the end on the ground. That staff was a third leg for that feeble old elf.

An image of the now legendary leader painted itself in Petiole’s mind. This image, however, was far from feeble. He saw Mappel on Sanctum Mountain, helping to defeat Ingar and his sphere, giving his life so that every other elf could live. Of course, he was sure that Mappel held to that annoying staff even to his last.

Petiole had considered the symbolism of the staff before. In times of greater weakness, times of greater uncertainty, he thought of taking up a staff of his own. He wondered if he might garner greater respect had he taken up this symbol of leadership. As much as his own insecurities led him to consider holding a staff, the same inadequacies always forced him to decline.

If he started walking around with one, the elves of his camp might think he was trying to imitate his predecessor. He could not have that. He’d rather clutch his hands nervously than do anything which might conjure up a memory of the previous camp elder. Now, instead of leaning securely upon a supportive staff, he shuffled about in small, zigzagging paths that always led him back to the same spot. He mumbled as he clutched his hands nervously.

Two other elves watched him with pointed attention. Tuber Berisom wanted an answer to his harvesting requests. Should he begin sending out elves into the forest or should they wait for Lief and Ryson to return?

The other elf, the guard commander that insisted on mounting an attack on Dunop, also had demands.

“It is time we acknowledged the threat these dwarves present to us,” the commander snapped. “We invite disaster by waiting any further.”

“We have yet to hear from Lief or Ryson,” Tuber noted.

“I doubt they will ever return,” the commander said with a continued air of frustration. “They have been gone too long. They have undoubtedly failed in their mission. They have convinced the dwarves of nothing and we still face great danger.”

“We can not be sure of that,” Tuber denounced.

“Of course we can,” the guard commander continued to argue. “How long would it take for them to reach Yave and carry out their plan, a plan I doubted the first I heard of it? It was well-intentioned I admit, but it was destined to fail from the start. The dwarves are stubborn. They will attack us again.”

“They can be convinced. The sword of the delver is powerful.”

The commander shook his head strenuously. “You are far too liberal with your faith. The sword may be able to do much in the hands of an elf or even a delver, but we are talking about dwarves.”

“They may yet be convinced,” Tuber maintained his hope. “Even now the dwarves may have conceded their mistakes.”

“Are you suggesting the dwarves may no longer be interested in war? We have a report that a massive dwarf army attacked the humans at Burbon just last night,” the commander countered.

“They were defeated,” Tuber reminded. “They suffered great casualties.”

“That is why we must attack now. They are weakened. It is time to exact revenge for the elves that died in their attack against us.”

“And now the dwarves have their own dead. Our elves were also at Burbon. Holli joined in the lead of the defense. Surely that is revenge enough for you.”

“From what I hear, it was the human wizard which defeated the dwarves. We now have sorcerers of our own. Let us allow them to cast their spells within the very caves of Dunop. Let the dwarves know that they must fear us as well.”

Tuber would not be bullied by such sentiment. “This is a pointless argument. Petiole decided to give Lief and the delver the opportunity to convince Yave of her mistakes. If they failed, he would drop the shadow seeds. There was never a discussion of sending elf sorcerers into Dunop.”

“Maybe there should have been.”

Petiole finally spoke loud enough to be heard. “I agree the dwarves are a danger to us.”

“We do not know how Lief fared with Yave,” Tuber reminded as he faced the camp elder.

“We know. He has not returned.”

“He has not had the full time you gave him,” Tuber persisted.

Petiole’s face began to turn crimson. “What would take him so long? Certainly, he must have been brought before Yave by now. Why would he stay?”

“He wouldn’t,” the commander chimed.

Petiole found confidence in tone. “It is like he said, the dwarves attacked Burbon after Lief and the delver entered the cave to Dunop. They have not returned, they must have failed.”

“Finally, some sense,” the commander grunted with disrespect.

Petiole exploded with rage. “I never wanted to wait! This was not my idea. I would have dropped the seeds days ago. It was only at Lief’s demand I withheld. Do not accuse me of not having any sense in this matter! It is you that has no sense! What would you do now? Enter the cave with a few elf magic casters? You would be slaughtered. It was my idea to use the seeds against the dwarves. That is the only thing which will make them understand our true power over them. Then, and only then, will we be safe.”

The commander glared. “Then drop the seeds. If not, give me the order to attack. One way or the other, it is time we made a decision. I leave you to make it.”

The commander stepped away, appearing to inspect some other part of the forest.

Tuber ignored him. He placed his full attention upon Petiole. “You can not allow him to attack Dunop. We will lose the best of our magic casters in such a short-sighted attack.”

“I have no intention of letting him lead any attack,” Petiole said. “The only order I will give him is to seal the known entrance to Dunop to the best of his ability.”

“If you do that, Lief will be unable to return.”

“He is not returning. He is probably already dead.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Tuber denounced.

“I can. Anyway, it no longer matters. I am dropping the seeds without further delay. I have already asked for guards to seek Dunop’s many air shafts. They have found several. We will drop the seeds this morning.”

#

Sy watched the goblins and shag descend down the shaft. He had many of his men in defensive positions, not that they were in any state to truly fight. It burned him to see the serp get his way.

When the creatures dropped out of sight, he was more than half-tempted to collapse the tunnel. He knew the serp would not keep his word. He decided against it only to keep the serp from knowing of his mistrust. He would not, however, fail in taking other precautions.

He looked to two of his men. “I know you’re both tired, but I want you to watch that hole. If anything comes out, sound an alarm. It’ll just be for a while. I’ll have you relieved well before sunset.” He then turned to his other guards. “Rest up. We may have another fight on our hands later today. I want us to be prepared.”

Holli walked up to the captain as if she had rested all night. “I agree with your mistrust of the serp. The elves at my command will stay for a few more days. We will remain at your service until you can rebuild your defenses.”

“I appreciate that.”

“We will do what we can, but I believe your most powerful advantage will be to get your wizard well-rested. Goblins are not resistant to magic, and Enin has the power to destroy many of them.”

“I’m glad to here you say that. I’m sure Enin will be even happier. He wants you to trust him.”

“I believe the wizard knows my feelings. I don’t know if anyone could hide them from him now.”

“Yeah, well, I ordered him to get some sleep.”

A single guard ran furiously to the captain and