Delver Magic Book VII: Altered Messages (16 page)

"That just means he will be impossible to control."

"That is the basis of your miscalculation. We will not try to control him. We will give him exactly what he wants. In a certain fashion, his aspirations are no different from our own. We all probed his thoughts when Samk initially took control of his mind. He craves power and conquest. But his desires are more specific, and they do not necessarily conflict with our own. In fact, they can be used to our advantage."

"I believe I can sense what you are thinking and I tend to agree," Macheve admitted, "but I wish further clarification. Your mind is filled with numerous ways to utilize the beast. Tell me exactly how you intend to use him."

"Of course. He wants to lead an army of goblins. He wants to rule Dark Spruce Forest. If we welcome him into our ranks, we should give him exactly that. Dark Spruce is a haven for dark creatures. Its main use to us is as a breeding ground for creatures to add to our own forces. Let us simply make Okyiq the general of that army and let him utilize the resources. He has the ability to lead."

"He does," Macheve allowed, "but he is not serp."

"No, he is not and that might be his greatest asset. Is it not possible that our own schemes are becoming too complex? Maybe we are trying to use eight different tools when only a hammer is necessary. Let Okyiq be the more primitive force. Let him be the hammer."

"And Dark Spruce?"

"As you know, it is the region where we plan to create the greatest conflict and confusion. Let us add to our planned mayhem with Okyiq's own terror."

"But you clearly have other concerns."

"Yes, I do," Desiv agreed. "I believe we have underestimated the human town of Burbon. I believe our plans for the town may be insufficient."

"How so?"

"Mostly because it is the home of the delver, Ryson Acumen, and he is a true paradox, which makes him a threat potentially greater than the wizard of Connel. He is a delver and that makes him a loner. He may not acknowledge it, but he thrives on isolation. At the same time, his greatest strength is his intrinsic ability to bring people together. If allowed too much latitude, he might undo everything we have already accomplished. It would be to our benefit to alter his status among others. Okyiq would be more than willing to destroy the delver."

Macheve began to see Desiv's rationale much more clearly.

"This goblin has great desires for revenge," Macheve admitted. "His rampage may be just what we need."

"Exactly."

"But do we really need to make him a member of the council?"

"How else do you intend to gain his assistance? Would you be willing to attempt to control him?"

Macheve immediately recalled what happened to Samk.

"No, I would not," she confessed.

"Neither would I," Desiv agreed. "And that is another benefit he would bring to our group. It will settle the issue of losing our sixth member in such a way that the council would actually gain greater balance. None of us would be willing to try and manipulate the goblin, and thus, his vote would be based on his own vicious desires. That would mitigate any attempt to steer plans toward a stalemate that could only be settled with a deciding fifth vote."

"As amazing as it seems, I find it difficult to argue with you," Macheve confessed. "The thought of a goblin as an equal is beyond me, and yet, there are advantages I cannot dismiss. I am almost willing to agree with you, but I believe further time is needed to consider the matter. If nothing else, to allow me to get used to the idea."

All of the serps nodded in agreement, and Desiv did not attempt to fight the will of the council.

"Then that is what we shall do. For the moment, we have other matters that require our attention. Our spies indicate the dwarves have sent messengers to certain human towns. If the wizard leaves Connel, as we expect he will, we must be prepared to put the next phase of our plan in motion, and I have work to do in the desert."

Neltus didn't mind the hot, dry wind. He actually enjoyed the desert. It allowed him to feel closer to the red magic that burned at his core. There was little else in the way, nothing to interfere with his connection to the land. Despite the harsh conditions, the elements brought him a sense of belonging. He loved to feel the blowing sand against his face and the hard rock under his boots.

What Neltus did not like was the purpose of his visit. Desiv had ordered the spell caster to teleport them both out into a specific region of the desert. They were very near an elaborate and picturesque range of sandstone cliffs, and the region served as a gathering point for the algor race.

The algors—tailless, lizard-like beings that walked upright—used the hollows within the sandstone cliffs as a central gathering place, a sanctuary and shelter. Just like Neltus, they were comfortable in the desert. The vast wasteland served both their conflicting innate desires. They could come together in the cliffs, join with the algor community and become part of the greater whole, or they could wander off into the emptiness of the surrounding dunes, seek isolation and feed their desire for independence.

Neltus knew that he and Desiv were there to rouse the algors, to remind them of past conflicts. He held no reservations in that regard. He didn't mind agitating creatures. He actually enjoyed it. It was the manner in which they were about to proceed which gave him pause.

"I'm not comfortable with this," Neltus admitted.

"Has the wizard of crimson power suddenly developed a sense of ethics?" Desiv wondered aloud, "...a moral compass?"

Neltus wasn't quite sure if ethics or morals had anything to do with it. He usually had little use for either. Still, he believed certain things should be left alone, and he proclaimed as much.

"I don't think you should mess with the dead."

The serp appeared genuinely surprised by the assertion.

"You disturb the dead all the time. You are a master of red magic, the power of the land. What do you think is within the dirt that moves at your whim? You think it's just rock? You know better than that. The ground is filled with the dead... dead plants, dead animals, dead everything. Rich soil is nothing more than decomposed material."

"There's a difference. When I call upon the land, I work
with
the soil. I bring out its infinite power. That's not what you want me to do. You're asking me to deliberately disturb a grave site."

"So?"

"So, it's different. I'm not really focusing on the land, I'm focusing on the corpses buried in the ground."

"Just think of it as a purge. The land is not ready to receive all the remains. All you're doing is rearranging things."

"And that's what I'm talking about. I'm disturbing the dead."

"Don't be so dramatic. I assure you the algors buried here will not be the slightest bit inconvenienced."

Neltus grimaced. He didn't like the thought of forcing algor remains from the ground, and he wasn't sure it was going to accomplish anything of real benefit. It all seemed like a ghoulish and unnecessary act.

"It still gives me the creeps," Neltus revealed. "I don't even understand the reason for it."

"Come now, that's not true, either. All six serps of the council—actually only five now—have a slice of your magic inside. You know what we're thinking. You know the plan."

"I only know what you're thinking if I look, and I don't like to look."

"You're just full of inconsistencies today. We know when you look. We can feel it."

"Then you know I don't look very deep."

"Deep enough to understand what we are trying to do here."

"I only understand that you want me to dislodge the remains of countless algors from a mass grave. You want to remind the algors of some battle, but it doesn't make sense."

"No?" Desiv questioned.

"No."

Desiv recognized a hint of sincerity in the spell caster's response. He sensed not only Neltus' reluctance in disturbing the graves but also a very real confusion. The serp decided to explain, if for no other reason than to expound upon the brilliance of the serps' scheme.

"How much do you know of what happened out here?"

Neltus drew on what he could glean from his connection with Desiv and from his own recollections of tales he heard from other humans.

"I know an army of dwarves dug tunnels into the algors' sandstone home and slaughtered them. The surviving algors buried the dead in one massive hole in the desert."

"Do you know why the dwarves attacked in the first place?"

"Some crazy dwarf queen blamed them for the death of her son."

"That's right. That crazy queen was Yave Folarok. She led a band of dwarf separatists. Her rebellion caused much pain and suffering. They attacked humans, elves, and most viciously... the algors."

"That's why almost everybody knows the story," Neltus acknowledged. "Dwarves attacked Connel and Burbon and everybody wanted to know why. It almost started an all out war."

"Yes, but not everyone has the same distaste for war. War can be very profitable. Those that have to fight the battles might not feel that way, but those that know how to manipulate the struggle can gain much."

"I get that, but why are you messing with the dead algors?"

"You have to understand the full scope of what happened. Yave gained power because her husband—the rightful king of Dunop, Bol Folarok—vacated the throne. He simply abandoned his responsibilities. If he didn't, Yave would have never gained authority over the dwarves of Dunop."

"What does that have to do with the algors?"

"Yave was destroyed by the wizard Enin, but Bol still lives."

"So?" Neltus questioned.

"The algors still hold a very big grudge against the dwarves," Desiv explained, "and they blame Bol Folarok almost as much as Yave for their losses. They also worry what might happen if Bol Folarok returns to the throne that is rightfully his."

"If that's true, then why do we have to come out here to disturb the dead?"

"Consider it an attitude enhancer. It's important at this time for the algors to be reminded of what happened here. I want the memory fresh in their minds. It will come in handy in the very near future."

"You serps are making this pretty complicated."

"If it were easy, everyone would be doing it. Now, it's time for you to cast your spell and see if we can gain the attention of the algors."

Enhancing the attitude of the algors might have been Desiv's intention, but getting a bunch of lizard-like desert dwellers very angry about a past battle was not a riveting idea for the spell caster. Neltus realized they were closer to the algors than he would have liked. He began to worry about what they might do if they found him desecrating a resting place for their dead. He and Desiv stood out of sight from the sandstone cliffs, took refuge behind a tall sand dune, but it hardly seemed like sufficient protection.

"I thought you were going to keep me out of any battles," Neltus reminded the serp.

"I never made that promise."

"Macheve did."

"Take it up with her. Besides, there's no battle here. We just need to use your magic. No one is going to attack anyone. We are pressed for time, so let's get on with this."

"Are you sure this is the spot?"

Desiv sighed heavily.

"We had rock beetles check the area. The remains are exactly where I said they would be. Stop stalling and cast the spell."

Neltus grumbled but did as he was told. Concentrating on the surrounding sand and rock, Neltus chose to create a backlash force. A ring of crimson magic formed around his hands as he clasped his fingers together in front of him. He thought of uniformity and then pressure. He envisioned sand and rock coming together, pressing foreign objects out of their way. The very ground would condense before him but the same force that brought the sand together would view the remains of the algors as inconsistencies. It would spit out all of the foreign particles, force them to the surface.

Neltus released the spell and the magical energy poured into the ground. The sand swirled and raged like a stormy sea. The turmoil raised a cloud of dust that blew high into the air. The land rumbled with fury. As if retching, the ground opened and cast a giant wave of algor remains into the air.

Most of it was bone, but many corpses remained surprisingly whole. Some of the scaly skin of the algors dried up into a leathery hide that kept the skeletal remains intact. Several of the algor carcasses flew up from the ground with arms and legs attached, full bodies as opposed to scattered bones.

With the spell complete, the ground was littered with indescribable horrors, a bone yard sprinkled with dehydrated corpses held together by thick algor hides.

"Well done," the serp congratulated Neltus. "This is better than I expected. Quite a few of the remains actually still look like algors. Lots of bones to be sure, but the scales fought off decay better than I projected."

Neltus took no pride in his work. He coughed once and looked away. He scanned the skies and revealed a growing concern.

"Any algors nearby would have felt that, and this cloud of dust is going to bring them right here."

"That's exactly what I want, but do not fear. You may leave now. I do not want to take the risk of an algor spotting you."

"What about you?"

"I still have work to do."

"Are you going to hide? Do you need me to cast a spell of concealment? I can create a mirage to keep them from spotting you."

"That won't be necessary. I will try to stay out of sight, but if I am spotted, I doubt there will be any harm of it. Algors are used to serps. In a way, we share the same heritage. You, however, will raise a great deal of suspicion. Leave now, but be ready to teleport me back to Portsans when I call."

Neltus simply nodded and cast a spell of teleportation that whisked him away from the desert and back toward the coast. The magic caster was not noticed even as algors began to trek toward the dust cloud from every direction.

Desiv could sense them coming and he waited silently like one more snake in the desert.

The algors moved with both resolve and trepidation. They could not ignore the disturbance, or the significance of its location. There had been no markings in the sand—no headstones or towering monuments—but the algors remembered where they had buried so many of their dead, and they could not forget the circumstances surrounding the tragedy.

They never viewed the burial site as a mass grave, never viewed it as a necessary evil to deal with so many corpses. Each algor buried within the massive pit had been viciously attacked by dwarf warriors. They had all died in the same battle, and the algors saw wisdom in keeping the victims together. They allowed the desert to swallow up the victims in total. No, it was not a mass grave, but a monument to both the algors' collective spirit and the manner in which the dead perished.

The tall lizard-like creatures encircled the massive debris field, looked upon the pile of bones and dried out hides with astonishment and sadness. They had no idea why the site had been disturbed. They sought comprehension in the silent and unmoving remains, but the ghosts of the past would not speak.

Desiv reached out with his mind, carefully probing the collective awareness of the algors. He made no attempt to seize control of any individual, he did not invade a single algor's consciousness. Instead, he focused on his link to the collective knowledge of the algor community and let his connection to their thoughts bubble to the surface.

Serps were originally offshoots of the algor race, a tribe that used twisted magic to break the bonds of the algor struggle between group belonging and individualistic desires. Serps became creatures of superior will bound by magic, but they did not suffer the inherent conflict which simultaneously forced algors together and apart. While they succeeded in separating themselves from the community, serps still held within their ancestry a small link to the algor race.

Without disturbing any of the algors, Desiv's mind entered the flow of communal being. The serp reveled in what he discovered. There was very little work for him to do. The algors understood the significance of the grave site.

As he expected, they did not forget the circumstances which caused so many deaths. He would have to remind them of nothing, nor would he have to coax them toward certain emotions. He could feel their anger and their fear, and there was no need to feed either. All he had to do was give them both focus.

Carefully, the serp sent out a single consideration. He placed it in the flow of consciousness and then withdrew from the thought. He didn't wish any algor to trace it back to his presence. It was only a name.

Bol Folarok.

Every algor knew the name. Not one could forget, as they shared information through their collective connection. What one knew, they all knew. Bol Folarok might not have been the leader of the separatists that caused the slaughter of so many innocent algors, but they knew he was the king that shirked his responsibilities. His failure to lead allowed for Yave to exact her unjustified revenge. Algors died because of Bol Folarok.