He looked for indications of natural disasters-floods, storms, fires-but found no signs of any such perils. He noticed an abundance of food throughout his travels, and discovered no imminent threat of dark creatures in the vicinity. If the elves did evacuate their settlement, he found no obvious explanation for such a move, but after reaching the borders of the camp, he soon feared for their very existence.
It was well past dawn, when he finally approached the very edge of his objective. Before he entered the central encampment, he noticed the lack of sentries at the perimeter. The light of the rising sun was behind him, and he could see deep through the trees. He listened carefully for any signs of movements and sniffed the winds for traces of the elves. All of his senses revealed an empty forest.
There were no elf guards stalking within the heavy branches overhead or patrolling the lower paths on the grounds leading to the elves' home. At the very outskirts of the elf settlement, Ryson took to the trees, climbed high into the branches, as would the elves, and circled the camp from a safe distance. He knew he should be spotted by sentries, but no guards were stationed to intercept him.
The delver moved unimpeded from branch to branch without observing a single elf, even without detecting some curious distraction used by elf guards to lure delvers away. Ryson knew that elf guards would have either approached him directly to question his purpose-if they recognized him-or tried to entice him in another direction with some suspicious activity. They would have used his delver curiosity to protect their home and to avoid conflict, but he sensed nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would draw his attention to another part of the forest. When he completed his initial scout, he knew without a doubt the region was unguarded.
Staying within the trees, Ryson moved carefully toward the inner borders of the camp. The forest was still and quiet, and other than the insects, birds, and squirrels, empty of activity. He pulled out the spyscope from his pouch and surveyed the lands from the security of a large white pine.
He began to suspect there was something more to Okyiq's claim. He understood the reason for the lack of patrols and sentries. There were no guards in the trees because there were no elves to protect. They were indeed absent, but traces of their existence lingered. The camp had not been moved, at least not in any manner that would make sense. Clear signs of the elves' inhabitance remained scattered about the forest floor.
The elves did not live like humans. They did not build sturdy shelters or large storage facilities. They lived within the forest, taking full advantage of the natural shelter offered by the trees. Still, they utilized certain cover to protect their more delicate items, and these signs of the elf settlement were very conspicuous.
Small tents and storage huts for food showed no signs of disturbance, other than goblin raiding. Woodpiles and the remnants of campfires littered the ground, even a few weapon stocks remained clearly in view, though most had also been picked through by thieving goblins. If the elves had abandoned the area, they certainly didn't take the time to pack their belongings or to erase the traces of their camp. Even the most novice human scout would have easily discovered the obvious remains.
Knowing that elf guards would never allow for such carelessness unless it was unavoidable, Ryson leapt to the ground and stepped carefully forward for a closer inspection. He imagined that only a severe emergency would cause the elves to flee in such blatant disregard. But to add to the delver's confusion, the signs of reckless flight didn't exist, either.
There was no indication of a violent attack, no blood on the ground, or spent arrows in the trees. While the campfires appeared abandoned, left to simply burn out over time, Ryson could find no other sign of panicked retreat. There were no broken branches or signs of a hasty escape into the brush. Goblins had scavenged much of the stocks, but nothing was in great disarray. The camp remained eerily intact. There simply were no elves in the area.
Believing he faced no immediate danger himself, he turned a more deliberate eye to the signs he could discover. He found the recent tracks of the elves, both on the ground and in the trees, but these markings only created more questions. There were no signs of a struggle, but footprints simply disappeared. Nearly every recent path he could follow eventually just ended, stopped as if the elf that had made the tracks had been plucked from existence.
Wondering if some elf might remain in hiding, he called out, but no one responded. The camp was silent, even the birds and crickets refused to reply. The hush that engulfed the immediate area brought an even greater sense of concern to the delver's spirit. He felt as if he was walking through a graveyard and the ghosts of long dead elves were watching him but unwilling to allow anyone, or anything, to answer. The silence was overwhelming.
Closing his eyes, he tried to latch upon any sound at all. The only thing he could hear was the slight gurgling of a stream well off in the distance, but even that sounded… wrong. It sounded to him as if the slowly rushing waters were not really moving, but only bubbling in place. He listened for the birds and squirrels he heard before entering the camp, but even those chirps and whistles failed to reach him.
It was when he took in a deep breath to check for any and all scents, both strange and ordinary, that he realized something was interfering with his senses. He caught the fragrance of the forest in his nostrils, but it smelled… manufactured. The tree bark, the leaves, the plants and ivy; everything that surrounded him should have offered its own unique scent. In one way, it was all there for him to recognize, but in another way, it was masked, covered by something that would conceal any scents out of the ordinary.
Even more troubling, he could not detect the aging scent trail of a single goblin. He saw signs of their recent pilfering, but he could not find a meager trace of their scent. With that, he knew something was amiss.
Realizing there was more going on around him than what he could see, hear and smell, Ryson grew even more cautious. Either there was something affecting his senses, or there was something very wrong with his surroundings. In either case, he realized that danger could be near, and one potent word came to his mind.
Magic.
It was the only possible explanation, but one that usually brought the delver great uncertainty. The energy always seemed to be just beyond his touch. As a delver, he journeyed through life based on what his keen senses could uncover. The magic, however, played by a strange set of rules.
To make matters more complex, he came to understand that magic was a part of him, it made him a delver, enriched his abilities. At the same time, its essence eluded him. He did not actively engage the magic. It heightened his senses and augmented his physical talents naturally, without conscious decision. It became a part of him at birth, an energy constantly passed on from one generation of delvers to the next. He could not separate himself from the energy anymore than he could discard his skin.
In the past, he had been uncertain, even afraid, of the power within him. It was a mystery he could not unravel, and for a delver, that was indeed a heavy burden. Just as a delver was born with magic, a delver's inherent mission was to seek out answers. To his discomfort, the magic was something he had to accept without exploration and discovery, without pulling aside the curtain and revealing the clear truth to a discerning eye, nose and ear.
Alone in a deserted elf camp and facing a strange sensation of some forceful energy distorting his senses, Ryson realized his desire to unravel the mystery had led him into possible danger. His options of understanding the elf disappearance dwindled. He was not well-suited to battle magical spells, especially when he could not identify the source of deception. Unwilling to leave himself vulnerable, he raced back up a tree trunk and took a position high in the branches of a mighty oak.