Delver Magic: Book 05 - Chain of Bargains (21 page)

While they might have been
surprised, the half-demons were not without the desire to catch their prey. One
of the inferns thrust itself towards the delver. It left its feet and propelled
itself through the air. Its face lit up far brighter than normal as its
internal fire burned intensely enough to give it lift and propulsion. It raced
towards Ryson like a shooting star.

Ryson had faced many things since
the return of magic; an ancient wizard back from the dead, a vengeance craved
dwarf queen turned into a powerful tempest, a vampire bent on ending his life,
a wicked serp with desires of grand conquest, and a slink ghoul that cheated
death only to create a shadow existence for tormented souls. During many of
those encounters, he fought back not only fear, but genuine astonishment as to
the irrationality of life in a world filled with unbridled magic. Many memories
haunted him, images that took their place in the twisted corners of nightmares
best forgotten. A new one burned an irrevocable place into the delver's soul.

The pale face of the half demon
glowed bright white as it streaked toward him. The eyes of the infern burned so
red they looked like roses in flames. Its mouth twisted downward into a
maniacal frown. The entire face launching at him became the very essence of
terror.

Ryson ran with all his might from
the haunting countenance. The street was empty before him which allowed him to
race at near his top speed down the center of the road. He did not have to
worry over wagons crossing his path, and the few people that came out of pubs
and inns stuck to the narrow walkways in front of the buildings. He could focus
all of his attention on avoiding the streaking half-demon that drew
frighteningly closer to him with each breath. Hoping to avoid capture, he
swerved to his left and right, and in this, he finally found hope.

Whereas the inferns sudden blast
of initial speed threatened to actually overtake the delver, the half-demon had
limited control over its path. When it attempted to turn, the creature
overcompensated and made steep banks, making for wider turns than the delver
and losing ground to its quarry.

Noticing the half-demon's
difficulty, Ryson chose to make several twists and turns at various
intersections through the city. The pattern of movement forced him to slow down
slightly as well, but not to the same extent. With each break right or left, he
increased the cushion of space between himself and the soaring infern.

The half-demon that trailed the
delver maintained its pace initially, but after several more turns, grew
frustrated or perhaps simply ran cold. The burning red eyes seemed to lighten
ever so slightly, and the glowing pale face dimmed significantly. The creature
eventually came to a halt in the middle of the street and watched almost
indifferently as the delver rushed away.

Feeling somewhat more secure about
his fate, Ryson reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the two beacon
stones Holli had given him. He kept the other safely tucked away, but decided
to toss the one in his hand into a side alley. He didn't wish to lead Holli
into a trap, but with dozens of inferns lurking throughout the city, he
believed it was best if they came together as soon as possible.

He kept moving, putting space
between himself and both the infern and the discarded beacon stone. Eventually,
he reduced his speed, but still ran like a human sprinting. He chose narrow
alleys and side streets, hoping to avoid attention and utilizing the darkness
to watch for glowing inferns patrolling the roads.

After passing several more blocks,
Ryson dropped his pace down to a slow trot. He sniffed the wind, but the scent
of the city was filled with numerous smells—the most prevalent of which was
goblin—but in one brief moment, he sensed as if all the town was ablaze. The
smell of unnatural fire, like water burning as opposed to boiling, filled the
air around him.

Instinctively, Ryson leapt to the
far side of the road. Only his speed saved his life. The thick humid air in the
place he once stood burst into flames. The fire burned so hot, he had to shield
his face. It glowed white and lasted for several moments. Had he not leapt
away, he would have been incinerated.

Ryson bent low, but scanned the
rooftops and the open skies for all that he could see. He knew the inferns
could fly and he believed one had to be soaring above him in order to pinpoint
his position so exactly. Seeing nothing above—no glowing forms or even the
faint whisper of light in the night sky—Ryson turned his attention back to the
streets around him.

He kept silent and still. He
looked down every narrow path, every lonely alley. All he saw was darkness. He
couldn't believe the half-demons could hide their position, didn't think they
would bother to try. They had attacked him, so he was already alerted to their
presence, and yet he could not locate a single infern.

He smelled it again—the clear
scent of demon fire, a blaze that required no true fuel and burned with a power
beyond natural flames. He dove away from the spot where he stood, rolled to the
ground and pushed his body to the opposite side of the alley.

A bright, white flame scattered
the shadows once more, scorching the ground where Ryson had stood. It lit up
the alley more brightly than the Sword of Decree with its glowing enchantment
ever could. The light intensified and it forced Ryson to look away.

For long, painful moments, the
delver fought to adjust his sight after the fire died away. Spots filled his
vision. He jumped back to his feet, slammed his eyelids closed and placed all
of his focus on what he could hear and smell. He sensed nothing nearby, which
caused him even greater distress.

At least one of the half-demons
had targeted him twice with exact clarity, yet he was certain no infern was
anywhere near. How could they locate him? And if they continued to succeed, how
could he fight them?

He decided not to stay still for
long. He raced down the side of the alley, turned up an empty street, and then
leapt to another narrow alley between two taller buildings. There was less
space for him to move, but he hoped the greater cover would conceal his
presence. He slowed to a mere walk, but continued to move forward.

Just as he reduced his pace, he
sensed another charge of flame. He jumped forward and then broke into a full
sprint. The entire alley lit up as if the sun had risen directly overhead.
Ryson could feel the heat on his back as he surged forward. He ran out of the
alley into a main avenue of the city.

There were more people about on
this busier street, and that simply added to his dilemma. If he ran like a
delver, they would notice him immediately. One might call out and further
expand his predicament. He would not, however, mix with the crowd. He didn't
wish to endanger anyone, but he still could not fathom how the inferns were
able to locate him so precisely. He could not simply trust that the half-demons
would refrain from risking casualties to innocent people nearby.

He reduced his speed, which he
knew was a risk, and he walked alone in open space which compounded that risk.
In a heartbeat, he smelled it again—the putrid stench of demon fire—just as he
felt the crackling charge of energy throughout the air around him. He took one
instant to ensure there was no one in his path before he leapt with all his
might toward another narrow side street. The pause almost cost him his life as
he felt the searing heat explode across his back.

He dove to the ground and rolled
furiously through the dirt. The scent of burning cloth—smoke from his own
shirt—filled his nose. He coughed once, but realized quickly the danger had not
diminished. He jumped to his feet and dashed down the side street just as another
flash of white fire burst across the ground.

The people on the avenue screamed
and ran for cover. They did not know the stranger who had been targeted by the
inferns, but a few had seen what happened to flesh when it met with demon fire.
They didn't wish to see it again. Those that hadn't seen it had heard stories,
and there was no desire within them to actually witness the incineration of
another living being.

Back to sprinting through empty
alleys and narrow streets, Ryson began to wish he was once more being trailed
by a streaking infern. At least then he would know the true location of his
enemy. Flames appearing out of no where left him with little hope of escaping.
Facing the harsh truth, he knew that whenever he stopped or even just slowed into
a casual run, he invited an attack. He needed to keep moving, and moving at a
delver's speed.

That in itself was not the end of
his worries. While he could run at great speed for extended periods of time, he
also needed to avoid the inferns that patrolled the streets as well as other
humans in order to keep them from harm. His options dwindled.

Trying to understand the heart of
his dilemma, he focused on his encounter with the lead infern. The half-demon
had said it searched the delver... that demons could see through more than just
the dark. They could also taste his trail. If that were true, it was possible
they could locate him at any point within the city. It would also explain why
he could not locate his enemies nearby.

Whether it was true or not was
immaterial. He was forced to acknowledge the severity of his situation and the
limitations of his knowledge. He could not fight supernatural powers and hope
to survive.

With nothing else to do, Ryson
eyed a path to the border of the city. Full retreat, even perhaps leaving the
valleys entirely, seemed his only option. He would travel as far as necessary
to lose the inferns. He did not wish to leave Holli behind in Ashlan, but he
was out of options. He hoped that as long as he carried the beacon stone, she
would be able to find him.

With absolute clarity, Holli could
sense the magical pulse from both stones, almost see them like two separate
strings of light cutting through a dark room. The single beacon that flowed
from the rocks when they were merged together in Ryson's possession had broken
apart. One vibration had turned into two, and she could follow them both
through their magical tremors. She understood the meaning. Ryson had discarded
one of the stones in order to summon her, and she would not delay in finding
him.

After exiting the house of the
spell caster Brenn, Holli remained upon the rooftops. She wished to avoid
attention as she could ill afford any distractions. Honing in upon the signals,
she assessed the qualities of both. One beacon created a distinct and direct
line of magic. It did not move—not by lengthening or shortening, or by changing
its angle of approach. She could almost pluck at it like a string on an
instrument.

The second stone also beckoned
her, but its signal wavered and trembled. The line of magic vibrated almost
violently, as if it was connected to a large fish trying to escape a hook in
its mouth. She knew it was that stone which Ryson held.

Narrowing first on the position of
the unmoving stone, Holli fixed the direction of the beacon to a distinct
section of the city. She used it to assist her, help her keep track of course
and distance. It formed a clear reference point, but to locate the delver, she
would have to follow the moving beacon.

In mere moments, she realized
reaching him would be no easy task. Ryson was moving with great intensity. The
trail of magic to the beacon stone he carried fluctuated as if it was being
tossed about in a twister. Only Ryson's speed could account for the furious
movement. Following the trail of magic was like trying to draw a line to an
angry hornet buzzing furiously around its nest.

With the delver running in such a
relentless fashion, she worried about his well-being. In fact, she began to
imagine the worst, and she prepared for a full-blown encounter with human
guards, goblins, and inferns. She could not imagine what else would press him
into such wild abandon.

Her concerns were not without
merit for the truth became plain as she continued to monitor the progress of
the magical signal. If Ryson simply wished to meet with the elf, he would have
found an area of safety after discarding the first stone. There would be no
reason to dash through city streets, and such movement would be
counterproductive.

After a few moments, however, the
hectic pulses of the beacon began to subside. Ryson was slowing and the elf
believed he had probably outraced any danger or found a place of sanctuary. Her
relief was short-lived.

Before she saw anything, she felt
it. The beacon stone in Ryson's possession lit up with a wave of power beyond
her original casting. Instead of simply transmitting a pulse outward, she
sensed energy surging back to the stone. Holli could feel the demon fire
burning across the waves of energy like a brush fire stoked by high winds
during the dry season.

From the very area she assessed as
Ryson's location, she saw a bright flare light up the night, as if white
lightning exploded, not from the sky, but at a localized point on the ground.
Horrified, Holli understood the implications of such a burst.

Mystic fire could appear at the
whim of a demon—even a half-demon. As long as the dark creature maintained a
bond with its target, it could spread fire across any space, even through
dimensions. Holli knew an infern had somehow obtained the discarded beacon
stone and was using it as a direct link to the other rock held by Ryson. Even a
delver could not outrun demon fire. He could race all the way to the far
western coast, and still he would be vulnerable.

Leaping from rooftop to rooftop,
she hoped to reach the delver as quickly as possible. She doubted she had to
concern herself with drawing any attention. She expected Ryson was creating
enough commotion to keep any guards and inferns occupied throughout the city.