He bent low in the tree, keeping himself covered. He tried to reach beyond the screen of false sensations and take hold of something that might offer an explanation. Believing he might be blinded to the actual threats by some powerful spell, he hoped to elude the magic and grab onto just a shred of reality.
To his growing dismay, he could not break through the magical cover that became more and more apparent to him. The enigmatic shadow that blocked his senses was like an extremely dense fog that hung just out of reach, a thick mist that could not be cleared by a wave of the hand. It blanketed the region with an unyielding heaviness. It provided a wall of concealment for the truth, and in that, Ryson grew apprehensive.
Instinctively, he reached for the handle of the Sword of Decree. Before he pulled the blade from its sheath across his back, magic of a different source rushed into his consciousness.
When the very elves he was searching for placed the blade into his possession, the enchantment of the sword expanded. In his hands, it began to offer opportune enlightenment to its holder, revealed what was necessary to be known at a specific moment in time. The sword didn't spell out the truth, didn't unravel every mystery, but it often gave direction, allowed its holder to understand the foundation of a mystery or a threat. It had saved Ryson's life, and it helped him save the land. On that day, it offered just enough knowledge for the delver to realize he was in no real danger.
Ryson knew the elves had indeed disappeared, but he also knew that the current magical disturbance that interfered with his senses was not responsible for the abduction. The answer to the elf disappearance would have to wait, for the sword's enchantment focused on his current dilemma.
"Are you going to show yourself," Ryson called out, "or are you going to keep hiding?"
Without waiting for an answer, Ryson removed his hand from the sword's hilt and leapt down from the tree. He stepped into a clearing at the center of the deserted camp, folded his arms in front of him and waited patiently.
After several long moments of silence, the delver called out again.
"We're not enemies, and I don't intend on treating you like one, but I need to know what happened here."
It was then the swallit appeared.
"Good day to you Ryson Acumen. Do you remember me?"
Ryson Acumen and that particular swallit had met before, also in Dark Spruce. The delver recognized the dark creature, not by its scent, but by the tone of its voice.
"Yes, I do. Want to tell me why you tried to cover everything up with those illusion spells of yours?"
"I see no harm in explaining," the swallit replied casually. Its large buffalo shaped head swung back and forth as it sniffed the air. The stringy, dark green vines that made up the bulk of its hide swayed gently with the movement. It appeared quite pleased with what it could smell, or rather with what it couldn't. "Effective spells. Even I can't detect a natural scent, and I cast it."
"That means it works, that doesn't tell me why you cast it."
"I suppose being a delver makes you impatient for answers, I can understand that."
The swallit stood upright and it slowly stepped across the camp using only its hind legs to walk. It suddenly looked more human than buffalo as its front legs became more like arms. It studied the ground in all directions.
"Tell me first, can you see these fresh tracks that I make?"
Ryson looked down where the swallit had walked. There was not a single hoof print to be seen, despite the fact the swallit had stepped heavily through soft dirt.
"I don't see anything," the delver replied honestly, then looked back up into the dark creature's eyes, "so your illusions covered your tracks. Seems they still are."
"Does that give you an idea of why I cast the spell?"
"I can only guess, and since you're here, I'd rather not. Why don't you just tell me?"
"Come now. Humor me. Use those delver instincts of yours and tell me what you think."
"I think you're avoiding the question."
The swallit grunted heavily and glared at the delver. The creature grew annoyed, but not to the point of charging the delver in fury, as swallits are known to do. Instead, it made a threat it clearly intended on carrying out if the delver did not cooperate.
"Would you rather I just leave and tell you nothing? I do not have to explain anything to you. I owe you nothing."
"No, I don't want you to leave, but I'm trying to find out what happened to the elves and I don't want to play any games," Ryson shot back, growing somewhat frustrated himself.
"I assure you, my spells had nothing to do with the elves disappearance. In fact, I had nothing to do with it at all. It happened well before I arrived here. That's one of the reasons I cast the spells. Does that help you?"
Realizing the creature offered a hint, Ryson decided to make a gesture of his own and he offered his own theory.
"I think you were covering your presence. You clearly didn't want me to know you were here, but I already know you're not responsible."
"You know?"
"Yes, I'm certain of it," Ryson acknowledged, but he did not reveal that the information came from his sword. "I'm sure you're not a threat to me, and I'm positive you didn't cause the elves to disappear. While I know you wanted to hide from me, what I'm not sure of is… why. I think-and this is a guess-that you cast those spells so I wouldn't blame you. Right?"
The swallit was impressed with how much the delver understood and confirmed the delver's theory.
"For the most part, you are correct. I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. I was hoping to keep your mind on the elves and not on a possible intruder."
Ryson considered everything he sensed, as well as those things he could not, and decided to reveal even more of his assumptions to the swallit.
"I can't see any of your trails, but I can still see the elves' paths, as well as a few goblin tracks. All of the scents in the area are masked by some kind of illusion as are all of the sounds. There's not a single natural scent in the air. What I smell is being created by magic, not by what's around us. As for what I can hear, there's an echo of a stream in the distance, but that's not real, either. I think it's magic creating that as well."
"Very good," the swallit congratulated. "I'm impressed to see that you have learned to pierce the magic of illusion. You were not always so gifted. "
The delver ignored the comment and continued revealing his perceptions.
"You didn't want me to know you were here, but you wanted me to follow the signs of the elves, at least the visible signs. You said it yourself, you wanted me to concentrate on the elves, but I think covering the scents and the sounds hampered me. That has me a bit confused. Why would you want me to see certain things, but not smell or hear anything beyond what you created with your spells?"
"Because, as we have both now confirmed, I didn't want you to know I was here. I focused the visual illusions on hiding my tracks. I didn't believe that would interfere with your investigation. I was not happy with covering up all the scents, but I wasn't sure if I could separate them as easily. If you noticed even a trace of swallit scent, you would have concentrated on me and not the elves. As for the sounds of the forest, what you can hear is irrelevant. While the spell does not affect my voice, it was meant to keep you focused on more important matters. What has caused the elves to disappear is long gone, and any sound you would have heard, such as my breathing, would have just led you to me, not to the answer of what happened here."