Delver Magic: Book 05 - Chain of Bargains (20 page)

Tugging at his shirt collar in an
effort to ease the grip of warm cloth sticking to his skin, Ryson decided to
leave. Nothing else could be gained from questioning the remaining patrons. The
humans kept to themselves, avoiding eye contact and caring little for the
presence of strangers. The goblins that remained at their back table had
retrieved their coins and returned to their game of rolling shag eyes, though
they played with much greater restraint.

He rose from his seat at the table
where the woman merchant had left him. With casual ease but growing discomfort,
he moved slowly to the door. No one watched him. The humans wished to avoid any
attention—that was clear from the start—and the goblins cared only for their
game. He could leave without notice. Despite the lack of interest by those
around him, he could not bring himself to open the front door, even as he stood
within arm's length of the door handle.

It was more than a premonition or
some vague sense of foreboding that brought him to a halt. A heaviness hung
over him that emphasized the uncomfortable warmth. His chest grew tight, and he
struggled to breathe normally. His focus forward remained clear, but it felt
almost as if he was looking through horse blinders. His peripheral vision
picked up the movements of those around him, but they seemed to swim in a light
mist.

Sweat started to form heavily on
his forehead. The room was so oppressively hot it began to make him more than
simply uncomfortable. His stomach twisted into knots and he felt everything
closing in on him, as if there was no space to move.

Trying to brush away the sensation
as nothing more than tension built up from his investigations, Ryson wiped his
brow and then his hand on his shirt. His palm remained wet as his clothes were
damp from his own sweat even as his mouth went dry. He felt as if he was
standing in front of a steam furnace which threatened to boil the skin off his
bones. He reached for the door handle with a growing desire to break free from
the heat, to dash out into the streets and find some place of cool refuge.

Ryson's hand grasped the lever.
The metal was hot, almost burning, but he kept his fingers around the handle.
The heat forced him to once again reconsider his decision to leave. He did not
press down on the lever or make any attempt to shove the door open. He simply
felt the heat pass from the metal and flow up his arm.

He began to stare at the flame of
a lamp by the side of the door. He watched it flicker and dance. The movement
mesmerized him, but it also accentuated the heat that seemed to fall upon him
like a heavy wool cloak draped over his entire body.

"This is not right," he
said to himself, and he yanked his hand free from the door handle.

He broke his gaze from the lamp
and turned to some of the other patrons. He inspected a few of those closest to
him. They were dressed lightly, but none were sweating... none appeared to be
suffering from the oppressive heat that Ryson felt. Letting out a heavy breath,
he turned quickly away from the front door and moved almost too swiftly toward
the small hallway that led to a side exit.

To his relief, moving seemed to
cool both his body and mind. The edges of his vision cleared and the tightness
left his chest. Thankful for the apparent reprieve, he dashed down the hall.

Most of the humans ignored him,
but his deft movements caught the attention of more than just a few. Though
they did not wish to stare, they could not help but gaze at the fluid quickness
of the delver.

Disregarding the attention, Ryson
bolted down the hallway and pushed open the side door in one massive burst.
With his head clearing, all of his senses came to life. He could hear movement
in front of him, and he knew something waited for him outside the door. Just as
he broke into the alley, he spotted two inferns moving to block his path. He
never gave them the opportunity.

Already moving at a quickened
pace, it was that much easier for the delver to break into a sprint and dodge
the grasp of both inferns. He took in the entire scene at once and identified
each threat. He became a flash of movement as he crossed the alley and placed a
safe distance between himself and the two half-demons.

He did not, however, maintain his
quickened pace. He came to a abrupt halt as his eyes scanned a brick wall
before him. He spied a drain pipe that snaked down from the roof. That was all
he needed to see as he spun about and placed his back to the side wall of the
neighboring building. Facing the inferns, the delver placed his hands near the
war blades at his hips and addressed the half-demons with fierce determination.
He believed their purpose was to capture him and he wanted to know why.

"What do you want?"
Ryson demanded.

Neither infern answered, but they
did not close on their quarry, either. Stepping away from the side entrance of
the tavern, they attempted to block both ends of the alley. They spread apart
and widened their distance from each other while keeping the delver between
them. They each held lightly to their burning hot javelins, and they positioned
the weapons horizontally across their chests as they backed away from the
delver. Stepping lightly with a grace that reminded Ryson of the elves, the
half-demons took strategic positions in the middle of the passage. Effectively
blocking the alley at both ends, they isolated the delver and offered no route
of escape.

Disregarding their obvious
intention to corral him, Ryson looked carefully over both armor-clad monsters.
He recognized one as the infern that had earlier grabbed a goblin and then
stopped at the door. At the time, he wondered if the infern had noticed him.
Now, he was certain of it.

"So what gave me away in the
tavern?" Ryson asked. "I saw you pause at the door. Were you able to
smell me?"

"Not smell... taste,"
came an answer, but not from either of the two inferns that blocked Ryson's
way.

A third infern rounded a corner
and announced its presence with the same cold voice it used when it previously
addressed the goblins inside the tavern. Despite the chilled tone, steam rose
from its breath.

"We can taste things in the
air," the infern continued. It stepped further into the alley, just past
the half-demon closest to the front street, and then stopped to assess the
situation. "Most creatures give off scents, but they also leave a trail
beyond the smell. A stray hair, a flake of skin, the smallest droplet of
spittle, even the dust that once clung to you but falls away; all of it
contains a taste of what you are. And you are a delver."

Ryson wondered if the explanation
of infern power was meant to impress him... or even scare him. He wanted to
make certain the half-demon knew it did neither.

"You could have guessed that
by how I moved just now. I didn't try to hide it."

"But you
have
hid, until now. You are a stranger in town, a strange
delver."

"So I'm a stranger. There are
other delvers in town. Why are you so interested in me?"

"All delvers are to be
registered with the authorities. You are not registered. Your taste is
new."

"So that's what this is all
about?"

"This is about you."

The infern's voice grew
substantially colder. The deep, emotionless tone rang out like the hollow
footfalls of a funeral march which was in striking opposition to its smoldering
form. The heat which billowed from the half-demon's stout body rose from its
head and swirled about in the sweltering, humid air in wavering streams. The
black armor dampened the fiery glow, but only slightly. The brilliance of the
infern's body still radiated enough light to create shadows along the dark
alley in the dead of night.

"You are a delver and you
have been stalking around the city for quite some time... asking questions,
watching us. Do not deny it. While you were in the tavern, I took the opportunity
to search you."

"You were never near
me."

"I don't have to be near you.
I don't even have to be within the same building. Demons have eyes that can see
through more than the dark."

"You're only
half
demon."

Ryson knew he was antagonizing the
infern, but he doubted it would change the intentions of the creature, or his
own circumstances.

"Be that as it may, I still
know that you have been in the city for... three days. You have traveled far
across the region. You are not even from the valleys."

"Is that what I felt at the
door... you probing me? You gave yourself away you know. I knew you were just
outside the front door before I opened it. That's why I came out here."

"And yet still we have
you."

"You only think you do."

"What I think and what you
think are of little importance. What matters is that you cooperate. We have
been charged with maintaining order in Ashlan. You appear to be disturbing that
order."

"I like order as much as
anyone else. I'm not causing any trouble."

"You are unregistered. That
is trouble enough. What is your name?"

"I don't think I want to tell
you."

The infern reached its level of
tolerance.

"You don't have a
choice."

"Believe me, I have plenty of
choices."

"Your overconfidence annoys
me."

"I don't think you'd be much
happier with humility."

The eyes of the infern turned a
bright shade of red, like the embers of a furnace pressed far beneath bright
orange flames. Despite the infern's rage, its voice still chilled the otherwise
sultry air. It spoke with certainty.

"I would prefer the
acceptance of reality."

"And what reality is
that?"

"We have dealt with delvers
before. I am well aware of your speed."

"Do you think I underestimate
yours?" Ryson challenged the infern.

"Do you?"

"I saw you move in the
tavern, and I'm guessing that was only a fraction of your true speed. Heat
always makes things move faster."

"Perhaps your view of reality
is closer to the truth than I expected."

"Maybe it is, but where does
that leave us?"

"It leaves us nowhere but
here, and returns me to my question—which I will ask only once more—and this
time I expect an answer. What is your name?"

"I still don't want to tell
you."

Ryson kept his eyes on the three
inferns in the alley. If they advanced, he wouldn't try to outmaneuver them in
the open streets. He saw how quickly the infern moved when it caught the
goblin's wrist with the hook in its javelin. He knew they were fast, and while
trying to outrace them was probably within his ability, there was no need for
such a risk. If any of the inferns made a move, he already planned a path of
escape up the side of the building behind him.

"I have given you fair
warning," the lead infern spoke with finality. "You chose this
confrontation."

Ryson prepared to dodge any attack
and climb up the drain pipe behind him, but the three inferns did not advance.
They stared at the delver with red hot eyes—the demon portion of their lost
souls burning with desire to consume the delver with the fires within them.
Still, no flames burst forth from their bodies or from their glowing javelins.
They simply stood their ground.

Ryson didn't care for the
stalemate, but he held his ground as well. He didn't wish to make a mistake
born of impatience. He had time. The streets were quiet and empty. No one else
was in danger and he wished to force the inferns into the first move.

As he heightened his senses during
the standoff, he felt a new wave of heat. He prepared himself for an immediate
retreat, believing that one of the inferns stoked up its own flames in hopes of
casting out fire. He bent his knees and gave one quick peek behind him to
ensure his anticipated path of retreat remained clear.

Nothing was behind him, but he
caught a glimpse of movement from above. Whatever it was, it was coming down
directly upon him. He did not hesitate, not even for an instant. He altered his
escape plan with speed and decisiveness that even Holli would envy.

Without even looking upward to
identify the threat, Ryson leapt forward. He made one quick step toward the
lead infern, but only as a momentary deception. With blazing speed, he flashed
back across the alley and through the side door of the tavern.

Before completely heading down the
hall, he glimpsed over his shoulder. A fourth infern had dropped from the sky,
but in a very controlled manner. It had not leapt from the rooftop above, but
rather floated down under its own power.

"So these things can
fly," Ryson acknowledged to himself. "That could be a problem."

Dashing down the hallway, he burst
into the main room of the tavern. If his previous exit caught the attention of
a few, his return brought on the gaze of all, including the goblins in the
back. He was not running at his top speed, but still far faster than any human
could boast. Darting around tables, he disregarded the stares of each onlooker.

He made a path to the goblin
table. As he passed, his arm streaked over the tabletop and he scattered the
coins in every direction and across the floor. The goblins hissed and cursed at
him, but the ruckus caused its desired effect. The greedy monsters scurried
across the floor, diving after rolling coins. Any infern following him would
have to deal with that confusion.

Satisfied with the diversion.
Ryson bolted to the front door. His hand took hold of the door handle lever and
he yanked it with pure abandonment. He burst out into the streets hoping his
arrival would surprise any inferns that might be lurking near the front of the
tavern.

He noticed two more inferns, but
they had moved to flanking positions far to his right at the front of the alley
he had just left. They were obviously held in reserve to guard the way in case
he got lucky and was able to rush past the lead infern. None of them had
expected his move.