The Fallen Elves: The Second Neoluzian War: Book Iii

By Christopher J. Farmer

In The Fallen Elves, book three of The Second Neoluzian War epic fantasy series, the wicked Orc dictator Arkan Spiritstrike, his wizards and military generals are on the verge of laying waste to the elven cities of Balenwood and Oakmantle after destroying the human settlements in the northern lands. This is a time of desperation for the good races because Darius has been lost to lower Neoluzia due to the Gathering of Replenishment spell cast upon him by members of the secretive wizard guild, the Veiled Institution.

David Parr, a human from Earth summoned by Darius that reluctantly remains in Neoluzia to assist the Salon of Enlightenment against their Orc enemies, must find the great necromancer Termaplix if the land is to be saved. Finding Termaplix may be impossible however, for the hero from the War of Cleansing has been hidden in a secret place due to unknown circumstances one thousand years ago--a tomb long since forgotten to the current generations in the land.

Perilously stifled in their shift away from the old magic and the forced elimination of history, those that Parr seeks to help against the enemy from the north must first learn to embrace the gift of magic again, an art banished in antiquity by the deception of peace and the deep wounds of the surviving populations in the first war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 10, 2004
• ISBN: 9780595758043

Christopher J. Farmer

Christopher J. Farmer is a national security expert specializing in revolutionary theory. His intense writing style explores complicated security issues in a fictional setting that humanity faces in this new century. He resides in Connecticut with his family.

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All Rights Reserved © 2004 by Christopher J. Farmer

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Cover art by Lori J. Shepard

ISBN: 0-595-30981-X (Pbk)

ISBN: 0-595-66231-5 (Cloth)

ISBN: 0-595-75804-5 (Ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Introduction

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

Neoluzian Terms

This book is for my great friend David Peippo

The Spardune Valley was filled with warriors from all the races of the land. It took four cycles to push the Ores back out of lower Neoluzia and near the entrance to the Fear Wastes. The armies of lower Neoluzia that came for this epic battle were all that remained of the men from all the races who had survived the previous battles. We were told that Antiluminous was sending Irongloat the Merciless to deal with us. Many soldiers were killed at the hands of his army and the legions of Amenotapic.

When we first gathered in the valley ten moons ago the numbers of men from all the races swelled. There were problems, however. High-ranking officers were killed in recent battles and the junior soldiers found themselves in disarray. It was difficult to find someone to lead because an uncaring temperament came over everyone. You could see it in the faces of the soldiers. We had been through so much that there was a sense of fatalism in the ranks. The soldiers who did not flee due to the lack of leadership remained in the valley because they wanted it to end. They wanted victory or an end to their own personal misery. Many soldiers also left the field to return to their families, thinking the Orcs were going to win the war.

Then one morning as word was given that Irongloat the Merciless and his rampaging army was approaching our position from the west the men took their arms and by the sutars they moved to a cloaked human who stood alone in the field. He was dressed in a black robe and he wore a red cloak that fluttered with the wind. On the back of the cloak was a white unicorn, a marriage symbol, but I was not sure whose family it was. He was a young human, perhaps no older than thirty cycles, and his hair was jet-black and he carried a neatly trimmed black moustache. Humans were attracted to growing hair on their faces. This human was unusual and I had never seen him before this day, but the men came to him. They had heard his name because he was spoken of in the ranks when stories of his feats became known to us. He had the reputation of being one of the most dangerous wizards in Neoluzia. Humans were particularly gifted magic users.

I was curious about this human because of his silence. He said nothing and the men came to him, drawn to him and the voices of the men began to sound again amongst themselves. It was the sound of hope. The conversations were random, senseless conversations. They were conversations from those that knew they were about to die and did not know what to talk about.

As the hours passed and more forces gathered around the human another human wearing a blue robe with lightning bolts stitched into it arrived. We knew this human. It was Darius. He stood with General Croaten, the son of the dark elf Yugon. General Yugon had died at the hands of Irongloat the Merciless in a previous battle.

Darius whispered to the other human in the black robe and they spoke for a moment. He then turned to the sutars of men that had gathered and with deep sorrow he relayed information to the men that Irongloat the Merciless had visited the safe areas where the families of the human soldiers were sent for protection. In moments many of the men began to cry and many more cursed. As this alert spread through the men like a brush-fire, the words of Darius moved beyond the field and many soldiers who had left the ranks returned. Darius told us that we would engage Irongloat the Merciless after the sun rose the following morning. The men became even more enraged when Darius told them that Irongloat was wielding Rime, General Yugon’s sword, for many of the men were selflessly loyal to the fallen dark elven general.

The silent human wandered off after Darius spoke those words to him. It took me some time but I managed to locate him and with stealth I moved to where he sought refuge. There was a stone wall, long since abandoned by the humans that had created it, with a burned out storage barn that had been overcome by the Orcs. The human with the black robe was there and he looked to the north. I snuck up behind him because sneaking around is a trait of the dwarves and when I found him I stopped with wonder. He was alone and he was crying. He was crying as I had cried so many times in the cycles when I had lost my friends. The human cried silently and as he looked to the north he wiped the tears from his face. I thought that perhaps he had family who were killed by Irongloat the Merciless in the safe human place by the Monsain River, or maybe he was crying for the humans who did have families there. There was a personal connection somehow with him to Irongloat’s wicked act but I could only speculate.

Then the most surprising thing happened. The human turned to me in the twilight and stared at me even though I was hidden. I thought that he was looking beyond me but there was no one else there. Embarrassed that I had been seen, I stood from my observation of him and moved to his location. His eyes fell upon mine and in those eyes I found a courage that I had never seen before. Those eyes cut right through me as if they examined my soul and I had to turn away from them. When I looked back to the human he remained with the same pressing glance upon me but said nothing.

That night we sat together and the human slept periodically. He stared to the north from time to time when a sudden sound or rush of wind would awaken him.

The next morning as the sun began to rise and as the energetic sounds of the sutars of men could be heard behind us preparing for the battle, the human stood and he placed a hand on my shoulder. He looked upon me again and I saw in those human eyes a steadiness and dangerousness I had never seen in any other human. As the human turned to move away and return to his brother Darius I knew that there was going to be a vengeance on the battlefield that morning.

His name was Termaplix. I call him the silent one, and with great honor he never protested me offering him direct protection. In the battle with Irongloat the Merciless, Termaplix used magic so powerful that he broke Irongloat’s body from the inside so that the sound of the Orc necromancer’s screams and the cracking of his bones could be heard to all that witnessed that epic battle. The human wizard Darius created a storm not even Gaeit could produce, and the thunder and hail came upon the enemy so swiftly and fiercely that it crushed their ranks. Irongloat’s body burned so brightly during this attack that the fog and wind could not shield its illumination. It was.. .a reckoning.

—Sazen the Brave, personal guard to Termaplix, Stonevane, Neoluzia 15

If they were to be judged, One would find that they were the most loyal.

In a world they would stand together, Seeking peace to disband them, With the hope that one day they could learn to live again.

Introduction

The Monsain River, ninety tarins south of the Spardune Valley, Neoluzia 14

The screams that followed them were not screams from their own. The screams from the Orc regiment that belonged to Irongloat the Merciless sought to sap the will of the pursued as the caravans of humans pushed through the open plains and rushed to the north to escape the ambush that claimed nearly everyone who sought to hide by the Monsain River from Irongloat’s approaching army.

The caravans contained men, women and children on foot, and wagons and horses carried countless more. When an Orc brigade of infantry came across the band of travelers seeking to flee from the Monsain River safe area, the hunted knew terror—a terror exasperated by the area in which the ambush was initiated. The bulk of those fleeing were in the open; the fields by the Monsain River had been tilled in previous cycles and the grass slowed the escape perilously. The grass latched onto the wheels of the wagons like tendrils since the wagons were forced off the main unimproved road and it was not long before some of the wheels broke from their chassis and the occupants were tossed out onto the soft ground.

In desperation, mothers grasped their children and began to run with them through the fields. The enclosing Orc army barreled closer to them and a frenzied panic grew when large groups of the fleeing realized that the wagons would not provide them escape. The human survivors of the ambush by the Monsain River the moon before trampled over each other and screamed for everyone to run as fast as they could. Children that had been separated by their families in the turmoil were lifted from the ground where they could be by the strong arms of those with the courage to risk it and briskly carried off. The elderly ran much slower, calling to anyone who may assist them because they did not want to be left behind but were not as strong as the young. Some collapsed after fleeing a short distance because they were sick or maimed in the battles previously and they cried from the ground. The screams of the fleeing rose from over two sutars of voices, each voice sounding louder as the Orcs drew closer to them.

A young child stumbled through the grass, left alone in the rampage. She looked behind with wide eyes of fear as the dark purple mass of Orcs closed, not watching where her tiny feet were finding their mark upon the ground in her desperate run. She tripped and fell hard into the grass, her tears and screams for her mother wailing loudly. The child couldn’t tell if her mother heard her calling because the sheer number of screams made it impossible for voices to be heard in the chaos. She reached with an arm flailing at anyone who passed trying to get their attention as they ran by. The ground thundered from the Orcs as they closed and the child sat ignored and cried alone in blinding fear.

But one did hear.

A tender hand reached down to take her and with a face flushed with tears the child looked up at the wizard who stood above her and cried loudly. The wizard lifted the child to her feet and knelt quickly to whisper to her while looking past the child at the mass of Orcs that were now drawing very close. The armor from the Orcs sounded loudly as they crashed into each other in a rage, their numbers well over a sutar. The weapons they carried swung terrifyingly from strong, merciless arms and as they passed the fallen they brought the weapons down upon them with deadly power. The wizard watched as the Orc army slowed to begin killing those that were not strong enough to flee, and she withdrew the hood from her red robe and palmed a large stone of purity. The energy from the stone caused her eyes to flash with green energy, and those eyes were moist from the horror she witnessed.

Young one, turn and flee. Do as I say. Do not look back. the wizard ordered and pushed gently upon the young child and the girl began to run again. The young child let her arms fall at her sides and she ran with all her might.

Bosnain watched the child as she fled and waved her stone of purity. A bright green sphere of energy surrounded the wizard briefly but with immense power and blistering sound. When the wizard waved her arm again the energy left her in a flash of force that embraced the fleeing at brilliant speed, engulfing them with green light. The plains illuminated with green light from the healing magic and the bands of humans found new hope from the healing. Some paused to study the strange green glow that had attached to them and reflected off everyone but when they saw the Orc army closing they ran again. The green healing light touched all that it could and Bosnain used every ounce of inner strength that she had to cast the spell. As the light dimmed and brought new courage to those it touched, the wizard dropped to a knee and lost her breath from the exertion. She held the stone of purity closer and fed off the energy from the gem but could not flee. With her right hand she pushed her long blonde hair aside and turned her glance behind again to view the Orcs.

The Orc army was massed around a group of perhaps fifty of the weakened who did not have the strength to flee from the river and in pockets of evil they were putting them under the knife. Bosnain lowered to the ground and her face fell upon the moist grass. Behind her those that fled used her magical assistance and crested a small ridge with speed and disappeared, their screams of fear becoming distant.

The Orcs held a human to the ground and were disemboweling him alive. The human screamed loudly as several Orcs carved him open, other Orcs reaching and removing his innards. Bosnain cried because she could feel the pain of the human, the terror. She forced herself to her knees and placed both hands around the stone of purity and closed her eyes to concentrate.

My love, I am failing.

The possessed Orcs were now dragging their victims screaming through the grass while others that had witnessed Bosnain cast her spell some one hundred feet away waved their weapons towards her to alert the others. The Orcs that were dragging their human victims through the grass by their feet and arms delighted as their comrades hacked at them with cleaving weapons, loud screams and flesh spraying amongst them. The stones of possession glowed around their necks and it was then that Bosnain broke from her new spell and saw the leader of the Orc group that had cornered them. The Orc was a bulky Orc and he was suited in red armor, his eyes glowing with blue energy. With a powerful arm he raised a fist into the air that held a human leg that had been severed and he screamed in conquest. Tears flowed down Bosnain’s face as she watched this occur and she clawed at the ground to get back to her feet.

The Orc colonel who was a subordinate leader of Irongloat the Merciless’ army saw her then and his eyes grew larger with possession and wicked rage. He dropped the human leg that he held and shouted at the mass of Orcs under his command and sprinted towards Bosnain.

Kill that wizzzarddd! the Orc colonel screamed and the regiment of Orc infantry set upon Bosnain.

Bosnain stood and stumbled forward into a run, her hair soaked from using the magic that saved the sutars of others she tried to protect. She switched hands with her green stone of purity and gripped it tighter than she could ever remember doing so before. The Orcs were gaining on her, driven by perverse alterations in the magic flows of Gaeit, their speed unnatural and ruthless. Bosnain shuddered with fear and as she began to reach the raised incline that the others fleeing took as a path she placed her hands on her knees to help drive her spent legs up the ridge.

Gaeit, do not forsake me.

Orc arrows flew past her and one came very close to the side of her head. She ducked briefly but continued to move, the Orcs now fifty feet behind. Their screams were shocking and caused her heart to skip a beat and when she reached the ridge she fell to the ground and tried to stand again.

The Orc colonel paced himself in front of his Orc soldiers and neared the top of the ridge. He paused and held his weapon into the air and screamed again, his sutar warriors stopping suddenly, the noise from their armor crashing together loudly in the open fields as they ended their sprint.

Bosnain clawed at the ground and cried, turning to see the sutar Orcs forming a line behind her, a battle formation, but she did not understand why they did so. She was alone and she was terrified. The Orc colonel stood near the top of the ridge and glared at Bosnain a short distance away with his soldiers and the Orc lowered his eyes to shield them from the new light.

The light formed with such intensity behind Bosnain that she pressed her face into the grass because it burned her eyes. The light was a large ball of energy and as it approached the sound from the light grew so intense that the Orcs had to raise their hands to their ears to try and silence it. The Orc colonel brought a hand up to shield the light that penetrated his fera-lyte helm through the slits in the front and he lowered his magical sword and turned away slightly. Every Orc in the large formation was partially blinded and disorientated from the piercing sound and confusion began to overtake them.

With a crackle of thunder the ball of light fragmented into a perfect circle that traveled for a great distance along the plains. The mass of humans slowed their flight about a half-tarin away to look at the beauty of the new light but could not see what was happening on the ridge that they had already sprinted across and left behind. The concussion that followed the collapse of the gate spell buckled the knees of the Orcs and the entire regiment was startled. The Orc colonel dropped to a knee as it happened and some of his soldiers moved to lift him back to his feet. When the Orcs turned again to look where the light had once been they saw Bosnain lying at the feet of another human wizard and she was crying. The new wizard wore a black robe with red amplifier stones that glowed with power and his red cloak fluttered in the hasty breezes of the plains. On the back of his cloak was sewn a white unicorn and when the regiment of Orcs saw it, pockets of them began to desert the battle formation. The newly arrived wizard lifted his hand and the magic stone he held flashed with clear energy, illuminating his eyes brightly. A clear sphere of energy surrounded him, deflecting feralyte arrows that the Orc formation fired in his direction in a hasty panic.

It it is Termaplix! Flee! an Orc soldier shouted with surprise near the front ranks of the Orc hoard. The Orc formation started to take steps slowly backwards and then the rear of the mass of Orc soldiers turned and ran. Hundreds of Orcs dropped their weapons and sprinted back down the ridge away from their leader and he screamed for them not to flee. Another group of Orcs, several hundred in number, rallied around their colonel and he raised his sword at the new wizard that had startled them.

I will kill you Termaplix! the Orc colonel yelled and sprinted at the tall wizard dressed in black. The Orc leader swung the magical feralyte weapon that he held with all his strength and screamed as he attacked.

Termaplix shifted with the force stone that he palmed and the magic stone began to emit a high-pitched whine of power. With a whisper in Tarsi a cube of force hit the Orc colonel on his approach and the Orc was lifted into the air and sent flying nearly thirty feet away before landing solidly upon the ground, the feralyte weapon that the Orc wielded sailing even further from the monster’s hands. The hundreds of Orcs that saw that display of power began to splinter even more and they realized then that they made an unmistakable misjudgment about staying with their leader. Some turned and fled while others waved their weapons perilously in confusion. Termaplix replaced the force stone he palmed with a war stone and his eyes then turned a dark shade of amber as the frequency of Gaeit flowed through him. The stone pulsed with a shrill sound and a ball of transparent red energy outlined his body, replacing the clear sphere of protection that he enabled only moments before.

The Orc colonel took a knee from the ground panting and removed his magical feralyte helm and coughed up a large pool of blood from the force spell. When he turned to look back at Termaplix in terror the powerful wizard was there.

Termaplix reached with his right hand and grasped the Orc leader solidly around the neck. With his left hand he raised the red war stone and the power from the stone amplified in his body, an unnatural action for the magic gem but its master demanded it. Termaplix’s robe flashed with power as the red amplifier stones sewn into the robe drew even more power from the war stone he held. The wizard lifted the large Orc into the air and held him there, the last remaining Orcs from the regiment fleeing in terror from the display of that power, leaving their wounded leader behind. Termaplix glanced angrily in their direction as they fled with haste but ignored their flight.

You grate upon my soul, Termaplix whispered in Orcish, a private message between combatants.

The silent one closed his right hand with the power of the war stone sounding in his left and the bones in the Orc colonel’s neck started to crack. Termaplix held the bulky Orc leader there in the air and stared into the monster’s eyes as the light in them faded. When the monster succumbed the wizard dropped the dead armored Orc, the weight of the corpse landing upon the grass of the plains with a sharp metallic impact.

Termaplix whispered again unexpectedly in Tarsi and the war stone flashed with brilliance. A bright red light briefly penetrated the armor of the fallen Orc at his feet and then an intense flame burned through it, searing the ground with a flash in an area that included the human wizard. The heat was so intense that the flames rose like a fountain into the air and the smoke from the corpse sizzled into a dark cloud that quickly rose into the sky. Termaplix walked slowly from the center of that raging inferno and the amber bubble of energy that protected him faded slightly. He turned then and viewed in silence the sutar of other Orcs that fled back towards the Monsain River away from their position, their silhouettes growing smaller as they increased the distance between themselves and the deadly human wizard.

We_we can’t defend them all, Bosnain cried, forcing herself to her feet slowly, wary of the power expressed by her chosen. There was something strange about Termaplix’s use of magic in this encounter and Bosnain could feel the fluctuations in the magic flows of Gaeit. The Orcs are everywhere and the races have separated in their retreat. I can’t save them all!

The silent one turned his head to view the smoldering corpse of the Orc infantry leader he had slain and watched as the fire consumed it, cooking the red armor the Orc wore. The fire filled Termaplix’s eyes and as he stared into that fire he showed no emotion. The wizard was drawn to the flames, his eyes locked upon them with lust.

Do you think that King Isaih has prepared enough forces to deal with Irongloat the Merciless? Bosnain whispered the question. Look at me. Look at me! she raised her voice as an order, trying to call Termaplix away from his attachment to the flames. Termaplix turned to Bosnain without emotion, his robe fluttering behind his frame as the breezes from the plains came to embrace them. Wisps of smoke slid between the two wizards and Bosnain wiped tears from her cheeks alarmed at Termaplix’s mood. She had never seen him kill with such efficiency before and an entire regiment of Orcs fled upon simply seeing him use the great magic.

You are going to confront Irongloat. Tell me! Irongloat is dangerous! He has killed General Yugon and almost routed the army of the dark elven general alone! There are too few of us left!

A small wooden magic charm flashed on the wizard’s robe and Termaplix gripped it to activate it. A magical channel opened and a healing sage from The Protectorate at the Salon of Enlightenment appeared in the channel.

Master Termaplix, the sage said with reluctance and concern. You are requested at the castle immediately. Master Shellan requires assistance.

Termaplix collapsed the channel without responding and then stared into the eyes of his chosen but did not move to embrace her. He walked a distance away to survey the danger that had now passed and turned back to Bosnain and his stare fell upon her again, drawing her into silence. The tears ran from her eyes and she watched the powerful wizard palm his force stone, the magic gem creating a piercing sound as the master wizard used it again.

Watch over them, Bosnain.

With a small wave of the force stone and a whisper in Tarsi a magic gate appeared in a flash of energy that shook the ground with thunder. Termaplix disappeared in the gate and his chosen was left alone standing in the open fields. Bosnain turned in despair that she may never see Termaplix alive again and ran after the groups of humans that she desperately tried to protect from the roving Orc infantry brigades dispatched by Irongloat the Merciless to destroy them. The corpse of the fallen Orc colonel sizzled and popped as she fled to those she was to guard and she peered behind one last time at the fallen Orc before sprinting with all her strength after the unguarded, the action forgotten by all in the following sutar of time.

1

Oakmantle, Neoluzia 1153: Present Day

The ground thundered as the horses sped past them inside the city but the human stranger from Earth that wore the Wolfshade did not wake from their passing. He sat along the edge of a cobblestone street near the front gates of the city sleeping soundly, the gates closed and guarded by sutars of light elves all in armor and carrying bows housing feralyte arrows. The Neoluzian sun brought light into the city and as it rose the light elves were extinguishing torches along the high perimeter wall that they had manned since the new emergency arose. The human stranger sat with his knees to his chest leaning against an old wooden barrel and three dark elven warriors from the dark elven city of Balenwood guarded him. One of the dark elves sat next to him with her arm around the human and placed her head on his shoulder gently as he slept. Their escape from the Orc ambush in the forest had taken its toll on their stamina but the dark elves did not sleep. They sacrificed themselves for the human stranger that had been summoned by Darius to come to their world.

The Sash of Yugon that was secured around the waist of the human began to glow green slightly and he murmured a bit in dreaming. Tonee lifted her head from David Parr’s shoulder and allowed the human to rest against her more fully, wrapping both arms around him. The wolves of Darius whined at Parr’s feet and Tonee brought a finger to her lips for them to be quiet while he slept. The animals whined more silently and panted, staring at the group.

It was dark where Parr was in his dream but the darkness was not from the absence of the Neoluzian moon. He was standing on a ridge, a tall ridge, and as he peered below to the ground he could not see through the mist that had collected there. There were shapes of