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forming communities, yet living solitude lifestyles in the vast reaches of the
desert. He knew so little about them. Mappel said they spoke in the same
language. That in itself was difficult to imagine, large upright lizards
holding a conversation. The image was laughable.
Yet, was that not the point of his mission? As absurd as it seemed, his
main goal was to meet and talk with the algors, to convince them of the danger
to the land and all of its inhabitants. Here he was, already in the desert,
already following the thin veneer of signs that led him to this canyon.
In the end, he returned to the very things which brought him to this
place. He turned to his inner most feelings. He hoped his own deepest
instincts would guide him to a decision, just as they guided him through the
desert. If he expected to meet with the algors to explain the breach in
Sanctum and the threat of the sphere, he would have to gain their trust. With
that thought, he gained the answer to his question. They would wait here in
the open, wait for the algors to acknowledge them. How could he expect them to
trust him, if he did not trust them first?
He made his decision known to Holli by yelling out to the canyon wall and
the many openings within it.
"Algors! My name is Ryson Acumen. I'm a delver. I am with Holli Brances,
an elf. We are here to speak with you."
His words echoed only slightly overhead against the cliff face. After
that, the hot desert air swept them away. No other sound graced the area until
Ryson continued.
"All the races must speak together! The Sphere of Ingar is free from
Sanctum! We can tell you what we know, but we must meet with you."
He lowered his head, and his voice, as he turned his attention to Holli.
"Let's make camp here. We have to show them that we trust them. I really don't
think they'll attack us anyway. They'll either come down, or they'll ignore
us. We'll just have to wait and see."
"We will not have to wait at all," Holli stated abruptly. Her face was
expressionless, the demeanor of an elf guard facing the unknown. Her eyes
narrowed as they scanned the entirety of the canyon wall. While she fought off
her own instincts to pull her sword, she nodded to Ryson to look back.
Ryson caught his breath as he turned. In all of his experiences over the
past few days, nothing could prepare him for this bizarre spectacle. Meeting
an elf was one thing, this sight yanked at his grip on sanity. Even seeing the
ghost of Shayed could not compare to what he now witnessed.
Like a legion of ants flowing from their anthill, countless algors
erupted from the openings which abounded across the sandstone. Within mere
moments, nearly every cave entrance spat out algors. An endless flow of
yellowish green flowed down the canyon wall toward them. They climbed downward
with casual ease, each algor moving in concert with the next, so as every
apparent space of the cliff face was covered.
At first it was difficult for the delver to center his attention upon a
single algor. Their coordinated movements kept Ryson scanning the growing
flock as a single entity. Like a shifting, diving, turning school of fish, the
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moving multitude attracted attention from every angle and direction. Not one
algor moved in opposition, not one algor stalled or paused. Step by step,
foothold by foothold, lines of algors moved as if directed by a single
consciousness. It was like watching a parade of well trained soldiers,
soldiers that spent years together so that every movement was in precise
order.
The delver and the elf marveled at the whole spectacle. Never had either
witnessed such a display. Even the elf guard could not boast of such precise
coordination of movement. It seemed impossible, as if the desert had finally
taken control of their minds. It was not until the algors began their final
approach towards them, that they were able to break free from the hold of the
group movement.
As the first wave of algors reached the desert floor and stepped toward
him, Ryson gasped out the breath he had held. He inspected their physical
characteristics with as much wonder as he watched their movements. An upright
toad, as tall as he was, was the only way he could describe them. Large black
eyes bulged near the top of every head. Two holes formed nostrils at the end
of the rounded snouts that jutted forward. The mouth opening crested wide, far
back to the round greenish brown cheeks. Not much of a forehead existed,
merely a space above and between the two eyes. The top of their heads curved
slightly before dropping down to a wide neck. Small purple bumps took the
place of hair.
As for their bodies, the algors wore no cloak to hide their scaly chest
which was more yellow than green. Long thin arms hung nimbly from somewhat
droopy shoulders. Long narrow legs, which appeared quite flexible, held the
light weight of the algor easily. Claws tipped the thin fingers and toes and
webbing filled the spaces between each. Just as the legends described, there
was no sign of a tail.
More and more of the algors filed down the sandstone mountain and
encircled the two messengers. They left a small space around Ryson and Holli
as they formed an unbroken circle all the way around, but they left little
room for themselves. They clumped themselves together in a growing, continuous
ring, hardly leaving enough room to breathe. Arms appeared interlocked as they
stood hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder. The chests of those that stood
behind the inner ring pressed flat against the backs of those in front of
them, and so it was for each ring which spread back from the inner point of
Ryson and Holli.
It was all the elf could do to remain calm, to stand as if oblivious to
the swarming presence. She bit back urge after urge to draw her sword and
maintain a defensive position. It was not so much the sight of the algors
which disturbed her, it was the simple fact that they were now completely
surrounded. Not a single path existed for their escape. She tried to steady
herself, and maintain a casual appearance as if the circling horde did not
incite her. She hoped to maintain a single perspective as if to declare that
she cared little for what was happening around her. All such attempts,
however, were futile. Her head continued to shift from side to side as she
kept a constant gauge on the space between them and each and every algor. She
could not break from her training any more than she could stop breathing.
Ryson dealt with the circling mass with even less success. Such proximity
to such foreign creatures stirred strange feelings. In his lifetime, he spent
many a day seeking new and exotic places. It was part of his nature, part of
his calling. He found nothing more exciting than coming across an unknown
valley in the mountains or a secret cove on a deserted shore line. He thrilled
at the first sight of large and small animals, anything that was new to him
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and the more foreign, the more bizarre, and the greater the thrill.
At this moment, however, he did not feel such unbounded excitement.
Certainly, nothing could be more exotic than what stood before him now, yet,
he actually recoiled from the sight of such unfamiliar creatures. It was one
thing to be a delver on exploration; it was something else all together to
break the very bonds of reality. Such was the case with a toad-faced creature
that took the posture of an ordinary man.
The astonishing demeanor of the algor was not all that unnerved him.
Their cresting numbers, which threatened to swallow every inch of space around [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]