The Ice Demons Of The Elves: Fantasy Novel

By Alfred Bekker

Alfred Bekker

Die Eisdämonen der Elben: Fantasy Roman

 

Der siebte Band der Saga um Daron und Sarwen.

 

Fantasy-Roman des Gorian-Autors
Im rauen Eisland im Norden gehen seltsame Dinge vor sich: Es schneit unaufhörlich, die Gletscher dehnen sich aus und drohen eine Stadt unter sich zu begraben dabei ist eigentlich längst Frühling! Eine geheimnisvolle magische Kraft scheint das Eis voranzutreiben. Zwei Botschafter aus dem Zwischenland, die ausgeschickt wurden, um das Geheimnis aufzuklären, sind nicht mehr zurückgekehrt. Als die Elbenkinder Daron und Sarwen sich aufmachen, um die Verschwundenen zu suchen, erfahren sie, dass die Bedrohung viel größer ist als bisher angenommen. Und dass hinter alldem eine Macht steht, die ihnen wohlbekannt ist ...

 

 

Übersicht Elbenkinder 1-7 

Das Juwel der Elben

Das Schwert der Elben

Der Zauber der Elben

Die Flammenspeere der Elben

Im Zentaurenwald der Elben

Die Geister der Elben 

Die Eisdämonen der Elben

 

 

 

Über den Autor
Wenn ein Junge den Namen "Der die Elben versteht" (Alfred) erhält und in einem Jahr des Drachen (1964) an einem Sonntag geboren wird, ist sein Schicksal vorherbestimmt: Er muss Fantasy-Autor werden! Die Romane um "Das Reich der Elben" und die "Drachenerde" haben Alfred Bekker einem großen Publikum bekannt gemacht, und seine Bücher für junge Leser sind so spannend, dass auch Lesemuffel kaum widerstehen können.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alfred Bekker
• Release date: Feb 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215758786

Alfred Bekker

Alfred Bekker wurde am 27.9.1964 in Borghorst (heute Steinfurt) geboren und wuchs in den münsterländischen Gemeinden Ladbergen und Lengerich auf. 1984 machte er Abitur, leistete danach Zivildienst auf der Pflegestation eines Altenheims und studierte an der Universität Osnabrück für das Lehramt an Grund- und Hauptschulen. Insgesamt 13 Jahre war er danach im Schuldienst tätig, bevor er sich ausschließlich der Schriftstellerei widmete. Schon als Student veröffentlichte Bekker zahlreiche Romane und Kurzgeschichten. Er war Mitautor zugkräftiger Romanserien wie Kommissar X, Jerry Cotton, Rhen Dhark, Bad Earth und Sternenfaust und schrieb eine Reihe von Kriminalromanen. Angeregt durch seine Tätigkeit als Lehrer wandte er sich schließlich auch dem Kinder- und Jugendbuch zu, wo er Buchserien wie 'Tatort Mittelalter', 'Da Vincis Fälle', 'Elbenkinder' und 'Die wilden Orks' entwickelte. Seine Fantasy-Romane um 'Das Reich der Elben', die 'DrachenErde-Saga' und die 'Gorian'-Trilogie machten ihn einem großen Publikum bekannt. Darüber hinaus schreibt er weiterhin Krimis und gemeinsam mit seiner Frau unter dem Pseudonym Conny Walden historische Romane. Einige Gruselromane für Teenager verfasste er unter dem Namen John Devlin. Für Krimis verwendete er auch das Pseudonym Neal Chadwick. Seine Romane erschienen u.a. bei Blanvalet, BVK, Goldmann, Lyx, Schneiderbuch, Arena, dtv, Ueberreuter und Bastei Lübbe und wurden in zahlreiche Sprachen übersetzt.

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Copyright

A CassiopeiaPress book: CASSIOPEIAPRESS, UKSAK E-Books, Alfred Bekker, Alfred Bekker presents, Casssiopeia-XXX-press, Alfredbooks, Uksak Special Edition, Cassiopeiapress Extra Edition, Cassiopeiapress/AlfredBooks and BEKKERpublishing are imprints of

Alfred Bekker

© Roman by Author /

COVER A.PANADERO

© of this issue 2023 by AlfredBekker/CassiopeiaPress, Lengerich/Westphalia

The invented persons have nothing to do with actual living persons. Similarities in names are coincidental and not intended.

All rights reserved.

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Alfred Bekker 

The Ice Demons Of The Elves: Fantasy Novel

The seventh volume of the saga of Daron and Sarwen.

Fantasy novel by the Gorian author

In the harsh ice country in the north, strange things are happening: it snows incessantly, the glaciers expand and threaten to bury a city under them, while it is actually spring! A mysterious magical force seems to be driving the ice. Two ambassadors from the interlands who were sent to solve the mystery have not returned. When the Elven children Daron and Sarwen set out to find the missing, they learn that the threat is much greater than previously thought. And that behind it all is a power they know well ...

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Overview Elven Children 1-7

The jewel of the elves

The sword of the elves

The magic of the elves

The flame spears of the elves

In the centaur forest of the elves

The spirits of the elves

The ice demons of the elves

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About the author

When a boy is given the name Who understands the elves (Alfred) and is born on a Sunday in a year of the dragon (1964), his destiny is predetermined He must become a fantasy author! The novels about The Realm of the Elves and Dragon Earth have made Alfred Bekker known to a large audience, and his books for young readers are so exciting that even the most reluctant readers can hardly resist.

Attack in ice land

A storm swept across the icy white land. Prince Sandrilas turned his head and looked searchingly to the north. For a brief moment, he thought he heard something. A sound that sounded like quick footsteps on soft deep snow.

The one-eyed elf prince listened to the roar of the storm. To increase concentration, he murmured a magic formula. But the sound was no longer audible.

We should get out of here as soon as possible, Lirandil! he said, nevertheless, addressing his companion.

Almost a hundred paces away from him was the elvish tracker Lirandil, but still, and despite the storm, it was quite enough for Sandrilas to speak softly. Even Sandrilas' heartbeat could have been perceived by Lirandil if he had concentrated on it, so fine was an elf's hearing.

I'll be a while, Lirandil returned just as quietly yet clearly.

Sandrilas sighed. He was tense. Have you forgotten the art of tracking, dear Lirandil, or what is taking you so long?

Are we perhaps short-lived people whose time is short and who therefore must always be in a hurry? the tracker replied with a counter question. The tracks are hard to read. The snow covers everything. And yet there's always something left behind.

At that moment Sandrilas heard footsteps again - but no heartbeat!

The one-eyed man pulled out his sword and flipped back his cloak so he could move more easily. There's something there! he shouted, stretching the sword in the direction he thought it was coming from.

Something or ... someone!

In any case, a creature without heartbeat and rushing blood flow in the veins, because Sandrilas would have heard both.

Look out! he shouted.

At that moment, from behind an icy hill, a dragon-like creature appeared, walking on two powerful legs, made entirely of ice. But this ice was magically as pliable and supple as flesh. The long, very strong tail ended in a sickle, which reminded of the blade of a battle axe.

An ice demon!, Sandrilas realized. That's why I didn't hear a heartbeat!

Elsewhere, these creatures were also known as ice dragon runners.

Sandrilas and Lirandil had been warned about these creatures before they went to this remote part of the Ice Country.

The creature turned its head, opened its mouth and in the next moment let a bluish flame shoot out of it.

Lirandil moved aside in a flash, so that the flame went into the snow beside him. It was a bluish magical fire.

The dragon-like ice demon whirled its tail around, and the icy blade sped through the air at neck height.

Lirandil ducked, and like an oversized sharp executioner's axe, the ice blade slid across him. The momentum with which the blow was delivered was so powerful that even the ice demon spun slightly. Only because of this did the next bluish blast of fire from its torn open mouth go into nothingness.

Lirandil knew that it was useless to run away from the ice demon in this situation, he was too close for that. After a few steps, either the magic fire or another blow with the sickle tail would have caught him.

So he decided to do the opposite: he used the brief moment when the ice demon had to regain its balance and gather strength for another burst of fire to charge at the dragon. As he did so, he shouted a magical formula that was supposed to give him additional strength. His leap was therefore somewhat longer than it would have been for a human of the same size and strength.

He whirled his sword and hit the ice demon's neck with it.

The blade had still been forged in Athranor, the Ancient Home of the Elves. There was no harder material from which to make swords than this steel. So the blade penetrated a bit into the creature's neck and let a few pieces of ice pop out, creating a notch.

The ice demon wavered briefly, but the hissing sound that escaped its mouth sounded almost like a derisive laugh.

The second sword stroke of the elven warrior did not harm the ice demon much either. More than a few scratches in the icy surface of his body, the blade of hard elven steel could not cause.

The ice demon pointed its mouth at Lirandil and tore it wide open. Lirandil grasped the sword with both hands, but there was no protection against the next jet of fire from the monster's maw.

Prince Sandrilas rushed in with long strides, but the distance was too great for him to reach Lirandil in time. But the one-eyed prince reached under his robe and pulled out a dark stone. It was black and perfectly smooth. It was a magical glowstone that they had taken with them on their journey to the Ice Country to keep warm and to prepare food. After all, there was no firewood anywhere in this stretch of land.

Sandrilas hurled the stone with all his might, muttering a formula in the ancient language of the elves. The stone glowed, took an unnatural, slightly curved trajectory, and flew straight at the head of the ice demon.

Just as the bluish conflagration was about to burst from the dragon's mouth, the shimmering reddish glowstone slammed into the ice demon's throat. The ice-blue fire was extinguished with a hiss, and white steam billowed from the choking demon's mouth. It staggered back on its powerful hind legs. His forelegs were much smaller and ended in icy claws that he used to reach into his mouth. Having just lunged for another blow with its sickle tail, it could not keep its balance and sank into the snow, gurgling and hissing.

Run, Lirandil! cried Prince Sandrilas.

Lirandil didn't need to be told twice. He sprinted off as fast as he could. At least for the moment, there was no danger from the ice demon. He was still retching. Instead of bluish fire, reddish sparks spurted from his throat. It rolled on the ground, but a little later it stood on its hind legs again and sucked as much snow as possible into its mouth. Again a hiss sounded. Apparently the snow extinguished the heat of the glowstone, at least a little.

For a one-eyed man, you sure can aim! commented Lirandil when he reached Sandrilas.

That's magic of the Old Era! replied Sandrilas unapologetically.

Lirandil knew what the prince meant. He and Sandrilas were among the few Elves who had lived when their people had settled in the distant land of Athranor. Even then, the magic of the elves had become weaker and weaker, but it had still been much stronger compared to the current era.

Daron and Sarwen, the magically highly gifted grandsons of the Elf King, were an exception in this respect. And from the magical abilities of the two elven children, even Lirandil and Sandrilas were far away.

Lirandil let his eyes wander.

On the hills covered with ice and snow, dozens of ice demons suddenly appeared. On top of the ridges of the snowy hills, they first stopped to survey the situation. They raised the sickle blades of their tails menacingly. Here and there a bluish jet flame hissed from a mouth.

By all the Elven kings, where did they come from so suddenly? groaned Sandrilas. And so many!

They have no heartbeat and no blood whose flow could be heard in time, Lirandil noted. And their footsteps are very quiet. I haven't noticed them.

There are hundreds!

The ice demon to whom Sandrilas had thrown the glowstone recovered visibly. It spat out a cloud of black ash. This must be the remains of the stone.

Then one of the other ice demons emitted a piercing, shrill sound that could probably be heard even farther away than any horn signal of the elves.

They all seemed to have been waiting for this sign.

They rushed off with their sickle tails raised and flames lambent from their mouths.

Now we will see what a fast ranger you are, tracker! said Prince Sandrilas.

The two Elven warriors had no choice but to flee.

But the ice demons were not only silent, but also extremely fast runners. Lirandil, who had studied the nature of various creatures as a tracker and used this knowledge for tracking, knew of hardly any other creature that moved so swiftly on its legs.

While running, they spread their dragonfly-like wings, which were made of gossamer ice and with which they could not fly but could support long jumps.

They snuck up on us!, Lirandil realized. They didn't want us to hear them!

Had someone been expecting them in the wasteland of the ice country and set a trap for them?

Lirandil had no time to think about it any longer. The first pursuers were already so close that he and Sandrilas came within range of the bluish bursts of fire.

One of the flame attacks hissed close over the two Elven warriors.

Then suddenly a huge mouth emerged from the snow in front of them. It was as big as the city gate of Elbenhaven and belonged to an enormous worm-like leviathan, a creature that could bore through thick layers of ice.

The mouth had already undermined the snow on which Lirandil and Sandrilas were standing with its lower jaw and was lifting it. Sandrilas and Lirandil lost their balance and fell into the monster's maw, along with a huge amount of snow, while the enormous mouth closed behind them.

On the Elbe Tower

Daron cried out, and his eyes filled completely with blackness. He raised his hands as if he had to protect himself from an invisible force. At the same time, a magic formula crossed his lips and became part of his scream.

What's the matter? asked Armsmaster Thamandor. Haven't you ever seen a mirror before? There's nothing unusual about that, people use them all the time. But I'm not surprised. If I had such a short life, I would also look in the mirror every day to make sure I still existed.

Daron swallowed.

The large hall in the workshop on the Elbe Tower was filled with the strangest machines and mechanisms. With some of these objects, one could hardly imagine for what purpose they had actually been constructed, even after a longer observation. Sometimes their inventor seemed not to know exactly. He had obviously lost interest in some of them, because some of them had been standing here for more than a hundred years without Thamandor or any of his assistants having worked on them.

The mirror in front of which Daron and Thamandor stood was surrounded by an ornate frame made of a brass-colored metal that incorporated