Decimation of Allingaard: The Last Elf Prophecy, #2

By Robert Thomas

A journey of magic and discovery continues in book two as the mysteries of an ancient world, and a heritage long lost to antiquity, begin to unfold. A demon vanquished in the Dwarven lands of the Shornhen by a mysterious arc is only the beginning as an old wizard and a young lad from the parched desert of the Pit-lands try to begin to unravel the lost magics and the hidden powers that have brought them to this point. The battle with the demon Amrok has torn a rift in the magics of the Dwarven lands and they must now seek a way to heal the Sessile Ri, the golden tree at the center of their world. To fail means losing its powers forever, and possibly the last hope for the wizard to revive a world walked by elves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Thomas
• Release date: Jun 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311431035

Robert Thomas

I welcome all to my world of writing and authorship. I am a husband, father and grandfather and I have been writing for many years and have published several fantasy works available through most major ebook retailers. I have tried to give the tales a feeling of place and circumstances that, although fiction, all readers who enjoy fantasy can relate to. In the past three years I have veered from the fantasy genre that started me down my writing path, with the release of The Home World Series. It currently contains three books, Star Eagle Six, Ghost Fleet, and Battle Wagon. It is a rip-roaring space opera that romps across the galaxy. The Last Elf Prophecy series stands at two books with the release of Decimation of Allingaard. It begins where book one, Sands of Nevertime ends. The series takes the reader through a world of discovery as an aging wizard tries to fulfill his life's dream; revive a long-lost world of elves.The third book of the series is being written; Awakening of Lillestrom. Look for it in the coming year. Also look for my trilogy; The Crystal Point Legacy: The Dream Valley, Silent Watcher and Death of Kings. If you are a fan of short stories, I have partnered with a group of authors on three anthologies: End of the Road, The Kiss, and The Bitten. Look for my works in those as well. I also welcome all to follow along with my blog, Ramblings of a 50 year old man; http://rambling50.blogspot.com. It is just my thoughts on life as I journey along to the fateful end. I also have a blog, http://sheimas.blogspot.com which is an on-going, first-person prequel to The Crystal Point Legacy. I hope you join me in my writing as we discover new worlds together.

Book preview

Dedication

To my family’s grandchildren

May a book ignite your spirits like you light up our hearts

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to author Steven Thomas for his assistance with this work

Decimation of Allingaard © Robert Thomas 2014

This is a work of fiction. No portion of this work may be reproduced or copied by any means without the permission of the author or his representatives

Smashwords Edition

Decimation of Allingaard

Book two of The Last Elf Prophecy

Prologue

The time of the Elf had long since passed into a world where the sun no longer rose. The age of Elves is a time forgotten. There is no remnant, no thread of time that strikes a memory in the living. All that remains of the age are tales of evil wrought upon the world, an echo of what was; fairy tales not to be spoken of in the darkness.

The word itself is nary uttered and when it is, the tones are hushed, the words hidden from the outside with a quick glance over the shoulder to see that no ear need hear. As the sun fades and night falls upon the landscape, whispers of ancient times dance in the darkness. Slippers are said to comb the night. They are unseen shadows said to steal ones soul that they could return to the land of the living. Often thought of as just a children’s fairytale, adults laugh at their mention, but quickly repair within their walls of safety leaving the night world, empty.

A solitary life in the bleak world of the Pit-lands has come crashing down around him. His father, murdered by a tax collector, propels him on a quest for revenge; find his father’s killer, and leave his world behind.

His quest thrusts him into a world he knows little about. He knows nothing more than a farmer’s life in the desert, a desert world that is unforgiving. The seaside town of Thurn becomes a haven, a brief sanctuary where a world he never knew opens up before him. It is a world of magic, a land with its own history, and an old man who believes in the past; a past filled with Elves.

Chapter One

Mantle of Change

The moon cycle within the Dwarven world of the Shornhen stayed hidden above the low clouds for several weeks. It seemed as if the canopy that shielded the Farumhn from above had reached to the sky and snagged the clouds for protection, and would not release them. The mood within was somber as the Hagralhn looked to understand the devastation brought to their world. Memories of destruction were not held within their written record as far back as anyone who could read the ancient scripts could tell.

The first day of the third week started as did all the others. The Harofduhn entered the main chamber of the Sessile Ri at the sunrise hour to listen to reports and news of his kingdom. It was a tradition that long ago fell from favor, and then, simply ceased to exist. Now, with the tenuous state of affairs within their world, a world suddenly wracked by a magic not their own, it was a tradition Hraldrum decided would be vital, not only for himself, but for all the Hagralhn.

The Harofduhn eased gently into the center chair, the simple twisted frame woven with deep-colored fabrics, and looked around the chamber. The connecting rooms were nearly empty, too early for most folks; but he was not most folks, a fact that became increasingly obvious as the events of the past few weeks receded. He was the leader of their nation and the one whose shoulders bore the weight. He took a deep breath and turned his attention to the Colluhn before him.

Dumerstuhn, it is good to see you have recovered from your last encounter. Hraldrum leaned forward, a smile nearly hidden beneath his full, brown beard.

Aye, I have, my lord.

I have noted of late that expression is becoming commonplace.

What expression, my lord?

Just that, ‘my lord’. Hraldrum leaned back into his chair, the soft weave a comfort to his back. Why has the Colluhn adopted it? It is against my liking.

It is what we have come to believe, Harofduhn. The give and take made Dumerstuhn feel uneasy. He felt himself shifting his weight from leg to leg. It was not what he expected.

What you believe? Tell me now, what the Colluhn believes.

My lord, the Colluhn has gathered itself and rallies to the call of the Harofduhn, the leader of this nation. Dumerstuhn shifted again as he looked down at the floor. May I speak freely, my lord?

I do not stand on ceremony, Dumerstuhn. None more than the Colluhn understand that fact.

It is a fact we do understand. We also understand in such a time as this, the Hagralhn must rally behind a leader. My lord, the more you shun the titles of leadership, the more the Colluhn will press it upon you.

The room was deafeningly quiet for a moment before Hraldrum leaned forward, a solemn look wrapping his brow before he exploded in laughter. The few who were in the adjoining rooms ran quickly to peer into the main chamber as the dull ritual of the early morning seemed not so dull this day. Dumerstuhn immediately felt at ease, the tension melting away on the golden airs within the Sessile Ri.

It would seem the only Dwarf who does not look to me as a leader is, me. Hraldrum sat back into the chair, his back finding the familiar impression that had worn in over the years. His hands came up beneath his beard as his fingers locked and his eyes sparkled with a new fervor. His simple words were all that those gathered wanted to hear. I accept.

The adjoining rooms erupted with thunderous applause as the low walls filled with raucous voices. Word spread quickly throughout the Sessile Ri and within minutes the low walls were nearly to the breaking point. To Hraldrum, it seemed as if all of the Hagralhn had suddenly gathered around his chair. He was awestruck. He looked from room to room as more and more of the Dwarven nation gathered, and as they did, the din rose to near fervor pitch. He suddenly found his own chamber flooding with his subjects. The realization enveloped him, encased him in his thoughts. He was their leader. Though he had been for many years, in this time of uncertainty, the mantle was thrust upon him with the full weight of what that uncertainty meant. For the first time in his reign, he understood the meaning of leadership, for to be a leader, one must have followers.

He rose slowly from his chair, his thick arms pushing him from his seat. He stood tall before his people as they embraced him with unadulterated adoration. His arms went up, a simple gesture to silence the chaos, but that brought even more applause. It was like nothing ever heard before within the confines of the Sessile Ri. Then, inexplicably, a chorus of Dwarven lyrics broke out along the back wall, an ode to times long forgotten, in all but song:

Where and for! Dwarven law!

For all of us to be! Till the forests falls!

We are one and all! Each together!

To the last tree! Shoom shoom!

Brave Dwarven! Our strength in numbers be!

Through battle and song! We are united and strong!

And Our heroes are we! Our heroes are we!

Several minutes passed and the outburst of camaraderie showed no signs of subsiding. Hraldrum tried to subdue the crowd by waving his arms, but to no avail. At last, he placed his hands on his broad hips and sighed. The celebration continued unabated. It was then a lone figure emerged from the gathering crowd and stepped to the center of the main chamber, his gate measured as if he were marching to a preordained melody. He stood before the central chair, his body draped from head to toe with a dark brown wrap that hung loosely from his slender frame. It was obvious he was not the normal Dwarf. The crowd grew quiet as his hands rose slowly and he peeled back the hood that covered his thin face.

It is obvious even to me, Harofduhn, the Hagralhn nation has spoken. Aldren looked about the chamber as the din began to die away.

You would say something to me, Althduhn?

That I would, my lord, he said with a smile.

Not you too, Althduhn. The leader of the Dwarven nation finally threw up his hands and sat back down into his seat, leaning his head against the twisted frame. He scanned the bustling crowd, gauging their mood, their emotion. It couldn’t have been more obvious.

It is the will of your people, Aldren began, that you fully accept the mantle you have shunned all these years. Your time to lead, has come.

Aldren’s words were a blanket over the remaining din. Hraldrum stayed seated, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He was their leader; had been for years, and he knew it. He always knew it, but he never had a reason to lead. This was the first true crisis the Hagralhn had faced since the time of Dralthruln, Hraldrum’s ancestor, and the only Harofduhn that was ever removed as the leader of the Hagralhn.

Chapter two

Mithruhn

The day faded as the last light withdrew behind the heavy canopy leaving only shadows and memories of another day passed. The first bright day to have graced the Shornhen in weeks retreated as darkness took its hold and the light of the Sessile Ri, the magical light of the Dwarven world brightened to soften the night. For the first time since the demon had entered the Shornhen, hearts lifted.

Slowly, the lives of the Hagralhn began to return to normal. Though the memories of that horrible day would remain, the pace of life was beginning to return; a quicker step, a slight smile and a slap on the back between friends were evident. Hraldrum looked out into his world, the Mithruhn quickly becoming a useful tool for his eye. He watched his people, felt their pain and held it deep within. He was their Harofduhn, their leader, and this day had cemented it within his soul.

His hand moved over the waters of the Mithruhn, centering the image held within the looking table over the valley that led to the falls. His hand circled the table’s edge allowing his vision to skirt the borders of the Shornhen. It had become his daily habit to scout his lands and dispatch the Colluhn to investigate anything that seemed out of place. He was quickly finding that the outside world paid little heed to the Shornhen. They were a people who were letting the outside world pass them by. His concentration was broken by the sound of footsteps behind him.

It is not your custom to be late to the evening meal, Harofduhn. It is a trait I have noticed among your people.

A good meal is a must in the Dwarven world, Althduhn. Hraldrum turned toward his advisor, the only non-Hagralhn who had ever been granted such title. We have to keep up our strength, you understand. He patted his belly in recognition, a whisper of a smile touching his cheeks. What news do you have for me?

News? No, it is not the time of day for that. Aldren replied as he approached the seeing table. There is nothing to report on the front.

And of other things?

There has been little gained in the search for what may happen to the light of the Sessile Ri. The red book has shed nothing on its origins. Aldren looked down onto the Mithruhn, his gaze taking in the whole. At best, I can decipher a single passage that tells of the Elves in an area that sounds similar to the Shornhen. It could be of this place, or not.

The arc has been no help?

None. Aldren looked up to Hraldrum, and rubbed his eyes with an open hand. He was tired. It will likely be a long process to glean the meaning of passages within the volume, even with the help of the arc. Aldren looked around the small room that held the Mithruhn. Within the Sessile Ri, it was the darkest room he remembered. It had a different air to it; a slightly different smell. He passed it off to his weary state. There is no immediate insight, no sudden understanding of the texts held within. I think it will be a tedious process.

Do you notice a difference in the light within?

No, not that I can say. Aldren straightened as he studied Hraldrum, feeling a sudden ache. He slipped his hand to the small of his back and began to rub. You have noticed something.

Aye, I think it is something I have begun to understand.

Understand. That is a peculiar word for this.

Not so much so, Althduhn. Hraldrum extended his hand and centered the image within the Mithruhn over the Sessile Ri. His eyes took in the whole without recognition. There is a disturbance within the tree. Though the light is strong, there is a shadow growing within. He turned back to Aldren, a forlorn look upon his face. It is something I can feel. I do not know that I can explain it any deeper than that.

I have not noticed a difference in the light.

You have likely not been within its presence long enough to notice. The light has subtle levels that vary within the tree. It is different even from chamber to chamber. Hraldrum let go a heavy sigh. I believe the battle with the demon Amrok has begun something we may not be able to undo.

You believe the branch that was ripped from the tree is just the beginning.

I believe so, Hraldrum said as he turned. I could be wrong, it has happened before.

I am likely to think those times have been fairly few and, well, rather far between. Aldren smiled, turning from the Mithruhn. It is time you do what custom demands, Harofduhn. It is time for supper.

* * *

Aldren awoke the next morning as the light of the Sessile Ri began to dim with the coming day. His own days had begun to settle into a routine. It was something he had become accustomed to, even in Thurn. He thought back to that place and time, so long ago now it seemed, though it was just a few weeks past. His thoughts drifted back to that life and the routines he developed to pass his day. They were so much like what he lived now; an early rise before most folk, a small but satisfying breakfast of fruit and nuts and then to his work.

He laid his hand across his small but growing belly as he sat at the table. His back ached as he shifted his bottom on the hard seat. The smells of the kitchen, salted meats and vibrant spices drifted upon the gentle breath that continually flowed within the Sessile Ri. Though he rarely ate animal flesh, the smells made his stomach churn with hunger. His eyebrows rose in surprise at the thought.

He rubbed his back again as a pain shot through his thin muscles. It was then he realized what he had been missing; his normal routine in Thurn involved chores; actual physical work. Not that he required much at his age, but he realized he had no such activity to keep him busy now. His growing belly and his aching back were sure signs of inactivity. In Thurn, even though he resided on a narrow street in the coastal town, there was work to do. There were gardens to maintain, small animals to tend and all the other chores that come with owning property. It wasn’t much, but it was just enough.

He pushed himself away from the table and looked around the room. Something else that Hraldrum had said, began to gnaw at him. He searched the chamber looking at every surface, every hole, every nook the room held. He watched the light of the Sessile Ri as it filled every void and crevice. This room would be his measuring stick, his gauge of the light within. He needed a mark. Something that would tell him if the light was failing. Feeling the brightness of the light would be too subjective as the pulse of the Sessile Ri varied naturally through the course of the day. No, he needed a physical mark.

Aldren began to take the measure of the room. He walked it off counting the paces from front to back. He then did the same from side to side. Could the size of the chamber change in relation to the light? It was an unusual question. He initially dismissed the thought but something kept bringing it back to him. The Sessile Ri was a living entity. Could it be the size of the tree would make a difference? Not to Hraldrum’s eyes. Hraldrum would likely see the tree as static in nature, unwielding, never changing. He spied a slightly darker corner toward the back of the room, hidden in part by a cupboard that held the serving platters. He picked up a knife from the table and stopped in front of the cupboard. Where? The light bathed the corner but left a distinct shadow upon a serving ledge anchored to the wall where platters stood high on end. He took the knife and made a small mark on the ledge. That would be his gauge.

Doing a bit of carpentry?

Just an experiment, Aldren replied. He turned and looked to the far end of the chamber as Caide made his way toward him. Just testing a theory. Nothing more. He slid the knife into his cloak and made his way back to his seat. Caide set his own plate on the wooden table, pulled out the small chair and sat across from Aldren’s seat.

Not much of a breakfast, Aldren. Caide picked up his fork and stabbed a thick piece of meat. He swirled it around on his plate, sopping up the thin broth, then lifted it toward his mouth. The smile on his face said it all.

I have kept a simple diet all these years, Caide. It is more than enough for me. He sighed as he looked down at his selection of fruits and again put his hand on his stomach. As you can see, I have expanded my waist since we arrived in Shornhen.

It wouldn’t hurt you to put on a pound or two, Aldren, Caide mumbled.

If you would learn to speak without a mouth full of food, perhaps I could understand you. Aldren put his hand to his ear, squinting, as he smiled. Caide simply smiled back.

The room began to fill as the morning hour grew late and the raucous nature of Dwarves began to make its presence known. It wasn’t long before several chairs sprouted wings and the conversations turned to near-blows. Aldren watched casually as he ate the last of his meal, while Caide felt the need to keep ducking his head. With his back facing the room, he could not see what might be coming. It made him nervous.

I think it’s time we leave.

So soon? Aldren said with a smile. Why, I have an entire grape here left to eat.

Caide sneered playfully back then nearly fell off his chair as two metal plates