Devastating Hate

  “It was stupid, really. My ears were still ringing four circuits later.” Famenia smiled in spite of herself.

  Simin put his arm around her. “Famenia, what you did was amazing. Between ourselves,” he said, giving a conspiratorial wink, “none of my pupils would have dared to do what you did. Jujulo’s gift of humor is a weapon we’ll often need to keep our spirits up. And anyway, it’s always a question of how a spell is employed. You have shown you understand that.” He gave her an encouraging hug. “You are well on the way to becoming an excellent maga. And things in Girdlegard will settle down, you’ll see. It’ll all come right in the end. The pacts the monarchs entered into with the älfar have already fallen apart. We all applied pressure to make that happen. You, too: you are the liberator of Milltown. Who’s going to confront a sorceress with a reputation like that? We’ll defeat the elf-slayers and their dark hordes!”

  “If you say so, master.”

  I don’t seem to have completely succeeded in cheering her up, but she’s looking a little more confident. “Don’t call me master. You are a pupil no longer.” Just as he was about to leave the room something else occurred to him. “Can you tell me what Jujulo was researching most recently? We always wondered if he really was only working on the entertainment side of his art.”

  Famenia gave it some thought before answering. “It was not a secret. He had never wanted to turn lead into gold or to explore the depths of Tion’s nether worlds, or to gain enormous power. He wanted to make the humans in his magic land happy; he loved to hear them laugh. He’d have wanted to make all of Girdlegard happy. That’s what he trained me to do.”

  That’s just what I thought. A big kid at heart. I miss him. Simin knew that Jujulo had sent out his best apprentices to learn from the world and give delight to those they encountered on the way. Their audiences had appreciated their little tricks and clever illusions. “As I said: we all need a bit of fun. It’s a wonderful gift!” He tossed an apple over to her, but she did not catch it very adroitly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought, as one of Jujulo’s best pupils you’d be a bit of a star at juggling.”

  “No, I can’t juggle.”

  “But what did you do when you were traveling?”

  “We did magic tricks. Not juggling.” Famenia grinned.

  “I meant when you were out on your trials being tested, far away from the enchanted ground. Somewhere you wouldn’t have had any magic source.” Simin was really keen to find out. “I expect you told amusing stories to entertain the humans you met.”

  “I used this.” Famenia brought out her amulet.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It allows you to store the magic power you need. It may not be much but—”

  Is that possible? Simin strode back to where she was sitting. He ran his fingers over her talisman. It made his fingertips tingle and he felt the magic the amulet held. “Jujulo found a way . . .” he whispered. “He played the fool but he was cleverer than any of us!” he whooped. “Famenia! How many of these things did he produce?”

  “One like this.”

  “Only one? Oh.” Got excited a bit too soon, didn’t I? He had been hoping that they could use the stored magic to confront and defeat the demon directly at the gateway. “That’s a shame. Perhaps you know how he did it, though?”

  “No.”

  Simin’s optimism faded as quickly as it had come.

  “But there are lots of smaller ones. They just don’t hold as much magic,” Famenia explained. She had kept him in suspense deliberately. “He made forty altogether. One for every one of us going out on tour. The amulets and rings don’t last forever and they start to crumble eventually, but they can be used quite a few times. At least I think so.”

  “Well done that magus! The fool was the wisest of us all.” Simin took her face in his hands and gave her a big fat kiss on her forehead. “He’s given us the possibility of stopping the demon in his tracks. Him and you. I’ll see you later on.”

  With that he ran off into his study. Sleep could wait. First of all he had to redesign his spell.

  . . . And so you have read all about the Heroes of Tark Draan.

  Not everything was included, for they lived through too much.

  Some events were not covered because I was not informed.

  One splinter of unendingness I may sit down and find the time to write the final story and complete the epic poem or to continue the legends of the älfar.

  When Dsôn Balsur is built and a new Tower of Bones rises above the Black Heart of the älfar empire—but not until then!

  But I can tell you:

  that Virssagòn invented weapons of such ingenuity that all the peoples of Tark Draan felt envy and shame. Many elf fortresses fell because of his skill, and Arviû, for whom he designed the deadliest lethal throwing blades, became his closest friend.

  that Arviû attained manifold revenge for the loss of his eyesight. His raids on the elves were the bloodiest ever experienced, and a moment of unendingness on which he did not kill more than forty by his own hand would not have been worthy of the name.

  that Morana, attracted by the ways of the barbarian, took it upon herself to roam through Tark Draan to learn more about them and even went so far as to form ties of love to some—or what she thought was love. She never returned to Dsôn. I do not know what became of her.

  that Horgàta and her warriors were never heard of again, though the Inextinguishables sent Virssagòn south to seek them out. All trace of them was lost at the gates of the realm of the Secondling dwarves. Barbarians who trade with the dwarves of the Secondling tribe reported that an elf horde had sought shelter there, but that both Horgàta and the elves were chased out through the southern gate and away from Tark Draan. What happened to them is not known.

  And that Sinthoras and Caphalor are the greatest heroes of all, despite not being nostàroi!

  They were responsible for planning the assault on Lesinteïl, the northern elf kingdom, and inflicted immense damage on the enemy.

  The struggle is arduous and mile for mile is still fought over, up to the present moment of unendingness.

  It was these two heroes who enclosed landur in many places with a wall to bring the elves to their knees.

  And it will be these same two älfar who will ensure our victory over the elves and the whole of Tark Draan.

  I have no shadow of a doubt about this.

  It is as true as the fact that Dsôn Balsur will never fade!

  Concluding stanzas from the epic poem The Heroes of Tark Draan,

  composed by Carmondai, master of word and image

  EPILOGUE

  Tark Draan (Girdlegard), Gray Mountains,

  4372nd division of unendingness (5200th solar cycle),

  spring.

  “What’s wrong with this idiot shrontz?” Shoggrok confronted the óarco currently held with chains fastened around some stalagmites. Its body was covered in deep cuts and it did not look as if it had any blood left. It was squatting on the ground, its eyes dull and lifeless. “Is it still alive?”

  The horde of óarcos with Shoggrok looked up sheepishly at the imposing leader of the last of the Kraggash.

  “Toboribar has ordered all his troops to go south.” Shoggrok had been given the task of gathering up stragglers and driving them out of the Gray Mountains. He took his work very seriously. Following the defeat at Sonnenhag and the treacherous betrayal by the black-eyes, every arm capable of wielding a sword was urgently needed. He pointed at the chained prisoner. “He belongs to the troops. Take the chains off; we’ll take him, too.”

  “But . . . he isn’t one of us anymore,” one of them objected. “The demon has transformed him. He should have been dead ages ago, but he keeps hitting out and biting if we go near.”

  “We really can’t use him,” agreed another óarco. “He’s completely insane. We ought to leave him here for the black-eyes to play with. Or the other way around.”

  The captive made a wild lunge, screaming
horribly. The chains went taut and forced him back. One of the stalagmites snapped in half. Even Shoggrok flinched, taken aback at the sudden show of aggression.

  “There! Did you see that?” squeaked the first óarco. “He’ll tear us to pieces!”

  The mostly dead óarco hopped about in fury and tried to grab the Kraggash leader with its claws. Baring its teeth, it displayed black bile dripping from its muzzle. It was not about to quiet down.

  Shoggrok drew his sword. “You are right. It’ll cause more trouble than it’s worth,” he grunted, striking out. “He stays here.”

  Sparks flew as the blade clanged against the steel collar, then cut through the animal’s neck so the head came away from the shoulders. One of the óarcos caught it, laughing. The captive’s body collapsed to the floor.

  But instead of blood, a silvery fog shot out of the stump.

  Shoggrok jerked backward. “What’s that?” He hit out with his sword at the shimmering mist, but to no effect.

  they heard inside their heads. The óarcos all cowered away from the cloud.

  Shoggrok had heard tell of the demon that the black-eyes had won over as their ally. However did he get inside the óarco? He stared at the corpse.

  When he turned around again the demon had disappeared. And so had Shoggrok’s horde of óarcos.

  “Hey!” he yelled, furiously. “Where are you, you band of cowards? We’ve got to go south!” He found his warriors hiding in the nearest tunnel.

  They started out on their march south.

  When Shoggrok left the Gray Mountains that evening to join their prince, Toboribar, they came across the demon again. He was hovering up and down in midair just ahead of them, and whizzing from right to left.

  “Whatever he’s up to, he looks like he’s having fun,” laughed one of the óarcos.

  “He’s waving at the clouds,” chuckled another of them. They competed with each other to make the stupidest suggestions about what the demon was doing.

  Shoggrok thought it looked more like the demon was not able to cross some invisible barrier, like a fly constantly buzzing into a windowpane. “Well, let’s leave him to it.” He gave the order to break into a jog. “We need to get away from here before the demon gets inside one of us. That flashing cloud thing belongs to the black-eyes.”

  The group moved away fast, leaving the mountains and the demon behind.

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  When I finished writing Devastating Hate and looked at the publication date of the previous volume, I realized that more than two years had gone by.

  More than two years!

  That’s a very long abstinence from these rascals, but they’ve been given plenty to do.

  It was important to base the action in several different parts of Girdlegard and to include other characters, humans and älfar alike. That is why the focus is not solely on Sinthoras and Caphalor this time.

  If you are wondering why you don’t learn much about the dorón ashont, I have to tell you that’s exactly how I wanted it. It would have led to an imbalance if I had gone into more detail. And no, I don’t intend to give them their own novel. It’s obvious that they will play a role in the future stories as they have already with the dwarves.

  You might assume I’d be taking the story directly on from here.

  But I am sticking to my original plan and am going to jump ahead time wise: the next part of The Legends of the Älfar will fall in the lost period of 250 cycles between volumes three and four of the dwarf saga.

  The action will take us deep into the caves of Phondrasôn, part of which will be familiar to my readers as the Black Abyss in the dwarf series. This is where Tungdil once disappeared and from whence a gålran zhadar emerged.

  Many of the mysteries and secrets waiting in the dark caves and chasms will be revealed—Tungdil’s own secrets among them.

  If you want to know what happens next to Sinthoras and Caphalor and to find out more about Morana, try looking in the books about the dwarves.

  What Carmondai, Virssagòn and Arviû get up to next might one day see the light of day in some shorter älfar legends—perhaps an anthology?

  Do not worry: Carmondai has kept all his notes carefully and put them by for later.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Quite a few people have made major contributions to help bring this volume to print and I should like to thank them all.

  Tanja Karmann, Petra Ney and Sonja Rüther have done another fantastic job as my test readers.

  My thanks, then, to them and to my new editor Peter Thannisch and to Carsten Polzin from Piper Verlag. I would like to thank everyone at Piper for their support.

  Further thanks to HellScreen, who are planning to bring the älfar to life in the virtual world at www.albae-online.de.

  I can’t wait!

  GLOSSARY

  acronta, term used by humans to refer to the dorón ashont

  benàmoi, high älfar military officer grade

  botoicans, a race with latent magic skills that live in the west of Ishím Voróo

  cnutar, symbiotic creatures composed of three units which can meld and disperse at will

  cûithones humanoid race in Ishím Voróo

  dorón ashont, also called the Towers that Walk or acronta; colossal creatures whose race the älfar had thought all but exterminated

  durùsilver or bone silver, a metal that hardens instantly

  fflecx, also known as alchemancers and poison-mixers, a black-skinned gnome-like race

  gålran zhadar, dwarf-like people skilled in magic

  gardant, leader of a guard unit

  intigrass, a medicinal herb prescribed as a distillation

  loffran, a medicinal root

  nightfern, greenish-black foliage grows to the height of an älf

  nostàroi, supreme älfar commander

  óarco, orc

  obboona, humanoid race also known as Flesh-stealers,

  pace, a measurement that equates to around a yard

  phaiu su, blood-sucking arachnoid creatures, many types found

  Phondrasôn, underground place of banishment

  ryma blossom, reddish-black briar that gives off an intense rose and carnation perfume at night

  shrontz, term of abuse: idiot

  sotgrîn, wolf-like predator

  Tark Draan, refuge of the scum (Girdlegard)

  tharc, älfar board game of strategy using miniature figures

  thujona berries, slightly hallucinogenic, consumed fresh or as an infusion

  utron viper, extremely deadly species of poisonous snake

  quwiksilver, toxic metal in liquid form

  A UNIQUE INTERVIEW WITH SUPERSTARS SINTHORAS AND CAPHALOR

  Sinthoras and Caphalor, one-time nostàroi of the älfar armies, are back and some might say, bigger—and wiser—than ever. Over wine served in intricately carved bone chalices and loffran root (the purple phaiu su curse that decimated their population is still a worry), the two gorgeous stars are here to discuss glory, bust-ups, banishment, the hated elves and, of course, each other.

  I: I think it’s safe to say you two have had a bit of a rollercoaster ride on your journey to Tark Draan. But let’s go back to the beginning. You two were once enemies—how did it feel to be told you would have to work together to find the demon—and what did you think when you succeeded?

  S (trying the wine): What, by the infamous gods, is this? It looks like wine, but it tastes appalling!

  C (raising his eyebrows): I’d say they haven’t found the best of vintages. We should make the butler drink it until his guts burst.

  S (moves the wine away): To start with, being bound together with Caphalor like this was a shock. We have different ways of thinking.

  C: Very different. And I’d be lying if I said w
e understand each other now.

  S: Well, we understand each other, we just don’t agree. Still, we got the job done.

  C: That’s certainly true.

  I: So you could say you’re frenemies?

  S:—

  C:—

  I: Let’s move on then. Sinthoras, it is widely known that you offered the metaphorical olive branch to Caphalor. What made you change your mind about working with him?

  S (taking a paint brush from his pocket, dipping it in the wine and beginning to draw on a napkin): Well, sometimes you need some support to achieve really big goals.

  C: We both know opposites attract, and they’re at their best when they overlap—in certain, limited ways. (Looks at the picture and addresses Sinthoras.) You’re not as good as you were.

  S: I’m a little out of practice and, anyway, this isn’t blood, just bad wine.

  I: You have both lived through enormous tragedy: Caphalor, you lost your life-partner and your daughter, and Sinthoras, you were betrayed by Timanris, then both of you lost Dsôn to a river of acid. Do you think this has informed your actions since and shaped the älfar you are today? Has it brought you closer?

  S: It has showed how hard you have to work to achieve your goals. Hard, and fast, because you never know what the future will bring.

  C: It’s made me tougher. Or, let’s put it this way: I rarely show mercy now. Firstly because I do not want to be seen as weak, and secondly because if you offer mercy to your enemy, you often find yourself facing them again.

  S: At first I thought he’d [Caphalor] lost the will to live [after these events], which would have been a real problem for me.

  C: I like his sympathetic ways (he says sarcastically). He’s always thinking about other people.

  S: Of course! Other people only turn into problems.

  I: If you had to live with humans, elves or dwarves, which would you pick?

  S: I’d choose . . . suicide. Nothing else would be bearable.

  C: I’d take humans, because they’re so easy to influence. I’d get those silly souls to start a war with the elves and the dwarves, and then I’d live in peace.