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expect to see things you would previously never believed possible. Very
simply, the magic is free. How or why it's free is of great concern to me. It
is what we must determine. Remember the legends. Keep them in your mind, hold
to them, and believe them. They will help you, and perhaps keep you from
madness. They may also save your life."
The elf paused and nodded to the decaying remains upon the ground before
them. "You've already faced the undead today. There is no telling what else
awaits us."
Ryson looked upon the now lifeless corpse for the last time, a stark
reminder of the madness he might face. He noticed the handle of his dagger
protruding out of its chest. He fought off his own repugnance and bent over to
retrieve it. He wiped the blade on the ground several times. He examined it
carefully before returning it to his belt, making sure not the slightest stain
remained.
"Speaking of such," Ryson spoke with an edge, "what happens if we face
another one of these? What do I have to do to stop it?"
"You must remember it is an undead warrior. It is no longer a living
thing. It is a lifeless hulk, animated by dark magic. You can't expect to kill
it by thrusting a blade into its heart. It won't be effective, for the heart
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is no longer important. It also won't feel pain. And it won't feel regret or
remorse at attacking. There are only two ways to stop such a creature. You
must remove the magic which gives it life, or inflict enough damage so that it
is no longer a threat. It takes powerful spells to forcibly remove the energy,
so unless you are willing to become a sorcerer, that option is not open to
you. That leaves the second. That is what I did. The undead are strong, but
their bodies are not very resilient. Decay will do that. If you damage the
body to a point where it can no longer hurt you, the magic will leave of its
own accord. When I struck the legs of the creature, it was no longer capable
of movement. The energy could no longer force the corpse to attack, so it
left."
"I see. But I'm not equipped for such a battle. This knife is all I
carry."
"Then, you might consider altering that decision. Your only other option
is to flee. Don't worry about that now. We go toSanctumMountain together. If
we face the undead, I shall dispatch it, unless they're in great numbers."
"Then I'll rely upon you as well as my own senses," Ryson acknowledged.
"Hopefully, I can warn us of another such monster."
"Warnings are always advantageous. Now let us move on. I would, though,
make one request. Let us move through the trees. Passing from branch to
branch, crossing the forest above the ground, it is how I travel."
"That will slow me down," Ryson admitted.
"I know, but it will allow me to keep pace with you. It is the quickest
way for me. It is a fairly short trip to Sanctum. We might reach its base
before nightfall, but if you are as gifted as the stories reveal about
delvers, there is no way I can match your speed upon the ground. I have seen
you move as you battled the undead; of this I'm already sure."
"If you think it s best."
"It is indeed. The forest will take us to the edge of Sanctum. At that
point we can examine the area and adjust our travel. For now, simply follow
your instincts. Return your attention to the quake and its path. It will lead
us westward and that is where I wish to go. Follow it as you see fit. I
believe it will lead us to the mountain. If you sense anything else which
calls for your attention, please inform me."
"Certainly," Ryson agreed without hesitation. Millions of questions
assaulted him, questions without answers. He would not find those answers by
remaining here; they waited elsewhere, perhaps withinSanctumMountain . He
could not deny what had happened to him, could not shove it into the recesses
of his mind. As a delver, he needed answers, no matter how incredible. He took
to the journey with no less hesitation then when he first left Connel. Without
further word, the two nimble figures grasped branches overhead and disappeared
into the trees.
Chapter 3
The elf and the delver moved westward. They scaled the trees with ease.
They leapt from branch to branch, swung from tree to tree, and trotted deep
within the pine needles and leaves. Even among the thickest grove of cedars,
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their pace far exceeded the normal walking speed of a human.
As they carried themselves closer to the sky, their path earned them
greater sunlight. The trees themselves were full of life. Early season
cherries were already ripening and berries on taller bushes waited within arms
reach. The two travelers paused on several occasions to re-energize with the
beckoning gifts.
As they moved about the sturdy branches, small animals appeared to enjoy
their company. Birds and squirrels danced along with them. Every now and then,
the delver whistled out a bird call or a chirp to a nearby chipmunk. He would
smile broadly with every musical response. The sunlight, the animals, the
green of Dark Spruce; all served to lift the gloom from the delver. He found
the excursion invigorating, and he found his natural abilities more than
capable in handling the task. He ducked in and out of the trees with amazing
grace and balance. He slipped through dense clusters of branches by navigating
through twisting passages. While he could have moved much faster upon the
ground, he was satisfied with their pace. He was also pleased to hone his
climbing skills. Indeed, he made a mental note to travel this way more often.
If nothing else, it kept many of his abilities sharp.
The elf moved with similar ease, but he failed to show the same eager
enthusiasm. This was no new or unique experience. Traveling within the trees
was as normal to him as breathing. It was how all woodland elves traveled.
There was never a need to cut a path through dense underbrush as long as the
trees formed a forest. Thick branches cast the framework for both their paths
and their bridges. There was not a stream in Dark Spruce that could not be
crossed by leaping from one tree to another. As easily as squirrels crossed
great distances while never placing a single step upon the ground, the elves
moved in similar fashion, andLief was please with the speed in which they
crossed Dark Spruce.
With each step, from one tree to the next, the delver became more
engrossed with following the path of the quake. Traveling upon the branches
became routine. His attention focused squarely upon the quest, and his
instincts took greater control of his movements.
The elf followed behind the delver. He allowed Ryson to choose the
direction and path. Only occasionally would he lift his head to get his own
bearings. To both his distress and satisfaction, he noted their westward
movement, movement that carried them in the general direction of Sanctum.
The delver made his decisions based on the signs of the ground below.
Once again, his senses focused upon the trail of the tremor. He peered
downward often to assess the mark of the quake. Disheveled ground and uplifted
roots gave clear indications of the path. The signs of damage became clearer
and more extensive with every step. In places, the soil appeared freshly
turned. Actual breaks in the ground, cracks and crevices, appeared more
regularly. He also noted greater damage to the trees. He found more than one
completely uprooted. Tree branches were covered with dust and debris, fallout
from the upheaval of the quake.
As they moved onward, they took fewer and fewer breaks. Ryson rushed
forward, the trail beckoning him with greater influence. Even as the path
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