Delver Magic Book VII: Altered Messages (9 page)

"And you talk like a goblin," the sorceress responded to the obvious insult. "Why don't you try explaining it so it makes sense."

"Makes perfect sense. I didn't need serps to find and kill goblins. Didn't need serps to prove delver and captain wrong. Would have done it all by myself."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because forest is big and goblins that once followed were afraid. Would have taken long time. Didn't want to wait, but could have done it myself. Serps just made it faster. They use the magic. Weaker goblins just listen to snake faces. Walked right up to me. I didn't even have to look for them. All I had to do was collect fingers and send message to humans. Thought it was a good idea. Enjoyed letting delver and captain know they were wrong. But didn't need serps, just wanted to get it done faster and didn't have to give up anything of importance. Understand now?"

"I think I do."

"You think too much, just like serps."

"Speaking of the serps, they want us to return. Do you want to come with me, or should I give them your regrets?"

"Don't care what you give them. Staying here... for now."

#

Pru lacked the staggering speed and unyielding stamina of a purebred delver, but he possessed far more of both than the average human. He would eventually need to rest, but he could maintain a robust running pace long enough to catch up to Okyiq... or so he believed.

The half-delver estimated Okyiq was racing through the forest at a staggering pace, especially for such a large goblin. Pru believed the beast would have to rest before very long, and when he did, the distance would shrink between them. The half-delver would simply have to keep moving at a quick pace of his own and remain focused on the trail he followed.

Following the large goblin's trail was far simpler than Pru expected. He lost little time in analyzing the tracks, barely had to stop to search for clear signs. The trail broke through the forest with a clarity that matched the sun in a clear blue sky. The half-delver couldn't miss it, but understanding it was another matter entirely.

The large goblin did little to hide his tracks. There were few turns, only slight detours to avoid deep streams or over encumbering brush. Pru never lost Okyiq's scent, either. Following the trail was as easy as tracking a goblin horde through the snow, even as the half-delver kept alert toward potential threats.

Pru never pressed ahead into a full sprint, as he had no intention of blindly walking into a trap or failing to notice other hazards stalking the forest. Shags, river rogues, and bloat spiders all called Dark Spruce home and nearly every monster had learned how to take advantage of a careless adventurer.

Pru understood the threats, and even as the delver portion of his heritage enhanced his senses to help him avoid danger, he also used magic that was more willing to bend to his human side. He cast spells more than most other delvers—certainly utilized magic far more than Ryson Acumen—and he sent out waves of magic to help identify dark creatures waiting in the forest.

There were none hiding along the trail he followed, of that he was sure. That in itself confused the half-delver. Pru would have guessed that Okyiq would have begun assembling a new goblin army or at least set obstacles to cover his tracks, but nothing interfered with Pru's progress.

As the race continued far longer than Pru expected, he had to face other considerations as well. The half-delver was pushing the limit of his own endurance. Soon, he would have to stop to rest. He could accept that, but he could not accept that a goblin of any size could sustain the pace needed to keep ahead of him for so long. Okyiq should have collapsed long ago, and yet the chase continued. His quarry was receiving aid, probably magical aid.

"I thought Okyiq didn't cast spells," Pru grumbled to himself, remembering Sy's estimation of the goblin's abilities. The half-delver could no longer accept such assumptions. There was no other way the goblin could have kept moving so fast for so long. "Well, this is going to cost them more."

While the pursuit continued in an almost endless fashion, Okyiq's trail ultimately led to another surprise. It appeared that the big goblin's destination was as bewildering as the extent of the journey.

It wasn't his magical spell that alerted Pru to the appearance of the dwarf guards. Dwarves were magically resistant and the half-delver's spell failed to detect the stout warriors. He spotted them with his sharp eyesight before he himself was seen. He pulled to a halt and used a large pine tree to hide his presence from the sentries.

Trying to comprehend the situation, Pru gauged the direction of Okyiq's path from his secured position. He could see that the goblin's footprints created a trail directly toward the dwarves. The dwarves, however, showed no sign of concern. They were simply mulling about.

Nothing made sense. Pru couldn't understand why a goblin would wish to head directly toward dwarf guards. Even more perplexing, the sentries appeared totally unfazed by the situation. They couldn't have missed the goblin, and even if they had already subdued Okyiq, Pru would have expected greater signs of alert or at least some indication of a light struggle. To the half-delver's amazement, the dwarves appeared totally disinterested in their surroundings.

Pru was baffled. With nothing left to lose and no where else to turn, the half-delver called out to the sentries.

#

The gluuns received the message through a magical link established by the serps before they were sent to
Dark Spruce Forest. They knew it was time to free the elf.

They crept out of the empty cell and moved silently to the only occupied chamber in the dank dungeon. The dwarf guard who manned the prison post had not yet returned from a scheduled patrol, and so, the gluuns could move through the corridors without worry. The iron door was locked, and even though the gluuns could have easily picked it, they did not wish to waste the effort. There was a small opening at the bottom of the iron slab which allowed for the passage of food and water buckets. It was too small for even a thin goblin to pass through, but not for a gluun.

One at a time, the stealthy creatures slipped through the opening and into the cell of Petiole the elf. The gluuns remained invisible as they took their first clear look upon the disheveled form.

The elf appeared aged and worn, washed out from the emptiness of his cell and the bitterness over his punishment. His eyes lacked any spark and the wrinkled skin sagged around his cheeks. He moved around the cell in slow, shuffling steps, walking the same circular path over and over again.

"Petiole?" one of the gluuns whispered.

The elf stopped and turned to face the door. He saw nothing at the small opening and wondered why a dwarf guard would call for him. Out of an unwillingness to respond to his captors, he remained quiet.

"Petiole, we are here to free you."

The elf heard the voice with greater distinction and knew it came from within his cell. Petiole's head swiveled about, looking from one corner of darkness to the next. His elf eyes saw nothing but barren rock.

"So, I'm finally hearing voices," the elf replied to himself with just a hint of a smile. "I wondered when that would start. Took longer than I thought."

"You are not simply hearing empty voices. There are gluuns with you now. Do you know what a gluun is?"

Petiole broke out into an old elf folk song,

"You can't see a gluun
,

but they can see you.

Cover 'em with dust,

They'll put up a fuss.

Throw 'em in a sack.

They
'll never come back."

The elf did not sing with joy. There was no lyrical or even whimsical grace to the tune. He spat out the words as if he was reprising some ancient battle song, and he growled like an angry badger at the end of each line.

"He is mad," one of the other gluuns remarked.

"We were told to expect as much. It changes nothing." The gluun returned its attention to the old elf. "Do you wish to see the light of day again?"

Petiole looked up at the rock ceiling over his head. When he was first imprisoned, he imagined when and from where the sun would rise. He tried using his meals as indicators for the time of day. Eventually, the darkness won and he stopped caring whether it was light or dark outside. Still, the thought of daylight brought a small spark of hope to the old elf, hope that had been long extinguished.

"Daylight?"

"Yes, we are here to free you."

The concept of freedom pressed away the lingering spark of hope. From the first day Petiole entered the dungeon, he knew escape was impossible. Dwarves were not only resistant to magic, they never trusted it. They built their underground cities to deflect and stifle the energy. They used stone, metal and gems to absorb, reflect and defy magical spells. Their jails were constructed with even greater resistance. He felt the oppression when they threw him in his cell.

Petiole was elf and there was magic within him, but he could not use it in any fashion. He was not strong enough to overcome the burdens placed upon the magic through dwarf construction. Magic was useless, as was his elf heritage.

"No freedom," Petiole muttered and then began pacing the cell again, his elf shoes tracing the well worn path in the rock. "Just voices in my head, trying to ruin everything. No hope, no magic... no freedom."

"There is magic," the gluun countered, "enough to free you. We have brought enchanted stones with us. They contain enough magic to free us all from this place."

With that said, each gluun placed a stone in the middle of the cell, forming four points of a square. The four rocks did not glow, did not appear as anything other than simple stones from a riverbed.

When the rocks were removed from the gluuns' possession and left upon the cell floor, Petiole could finally see them. He stopped his pacing and stared at the stones he knew did not belong in his dwarf prison. He had been in his cell for so long with nothing to do, he had memorized every curve of the surrounding rock and every loose pebble. He could not ignore the sudden appearance of something even so ordinary as a handful of stones.

"Stand in the middle of the square created and they will send you to freedom," one of the gluuns advised.

Petiole did not move. He could not deny the appearance of the stones, but his thoughts became engulfed with torments of the past. He relived seemingly ancient arguments with Lief Woodson and the council of elders. Images from twisted nightmares danced in his head. He remembered the faces of the elves that guided him in chains to the dwarf sentries at Dunop's entrance. He felt weakness in his knees and he wished for a staff to support his feeble frame. The thought of a staff brought back more memories, the face of Mappel, the elder he succeeded to lead the elf camp... the legend he could never replace. He started to laugh and cry at the same time.

Despite Petiole's meager frame, even four gluuns would not have been able to move him into position if he resisted. They needed him to move of his own free will and they were suddenly running out of time.

"This is your only chance," one of the gluuns whispered. "Take it now before it's too late. You can return to the forest."

"Return?" Petiole hissed. "Return to what?"

"You prefer darkness?"

"Over what? What am I going back to?"

One of the gluuns saw the sheer hostility and tried to invoke even greater anger in the elf, add incentive to the idea of escaping the dwarves.

"Take vengeance on those who betrayed you. Laugh at the dwarves who thought you were their prisoner."

Had the gluuns made the offer when Petiole was first imprisoned, he would have eagerly sought escape. He was vindictive once, would have leapt at the chance to get even with those who questioned his leadership. There would have been no hesitation.

But Petiole had sank into something beyond despair. He still had his anger, but he had lost control. He was no longer a leader of anything, no longer the center of his camp's destiny. It was not dementia that took hold of his mind, for he could remember everything. It was frustration above all else; the kind of frustration that bred contempt for life, contempt for existence.

Vengeance required purpose, and Petiole had lost his in the shadows of his cell. A quest for revenge could not motivate the elf to step forward. He revealed the truths that tortured him.

"I do not have to leave to laugh at dwarves. I laugh at them here. I laugh at them all. And they still don't care."

"You can make them care."

"No, they won't. They have all forgotten me."

As time was quickly fading, one gluun finally struck the proper chord.

"Then forget them. Step into the square and be done with all of them. They have discarded you. You can do the same. All you have to do is leave them."

"Leave?"

It was a simple question, tinged with neither hope nor anger. Instead, it held a deeper desire, a wish to escape everything, to withdraw.

The gluun that had made the final proposal realized he had finally found the proper motivation.

"Yes, leave! Walk into the square and prove your worth. Let them know you can forget them as easily as they have forgotten you. Free yourself from every concern, and at the same time, show every dwarf and every elf that you are beyond them all. You can leave, but you must go now."