Of Magic in Man

The War

Whatever Ruddy was expecting to see, it wasn't that.

He'd seen enough war movies and heard enough stories from the Second World War to know that such conflicts were never pretty, always chaotic, and certainly never glorious. As he gazed out on the burning plain, he redefined his idea of "chaos."

Creatures of uncountable species battled desperately in the waning light. Ruddy was no strategist, but it didn't take much to identify the losing side. Elves with skin the color of tree bark, sentient creatures of the forest, and dwarves howled defiance as they were pushed farther and farther back by a horde of orcs and night elves at least three times their number.

"Why do they stand and fight?" Ruddy asked of his mentor. 

He remembered the long hours he and Elowyn had spent pouring over bestiaries and other tomes covering the various species that populated Eladar and connected realms. Night was falling, and that would spell certain death for the wood elf army and its auxiliaries against the creatures who loved the night.

Finarion simply motioned to a span of hills closer to where they stood behind the Wenladrin lines.

Ruddy's gaze followed the hand. In the waning light he made out the retreating backs of people fleeing the conflict heading straight for them.

"Ylyrenthar thil-rythor," he whispered.

His vision heightened and he saw them; families, merchants, hordes children shepherded by a handful of adults who couldn't possibly be all their parents.

The ground shuddered, and Ruddy's gaze was torn away from the fleeing civilians. The center of the dwarven line sagged ominously, then broke. The army fled, pursued by their mortal enemies. An enormous head covered in sharp jagged pieces of bone protruding from beneath the skin crested the hill that was defended only a moment before. 

"What," Ruddy gaped, "Is that?"

"You don't recognize it?" Finarion asked.

"I do, but...they aren't supposed to be that big..."

"Ogres are a peculiar species," Finarion replied, "They are usually relatively small, twice the size of a man, but during times of extreme suffering they seem to...feed upon the chaos and grow. This particular one was probably born during Thil-aran Anubador judging from its size and number of bone spikes on its face. That is the real sign of their age."

Ruddy wheeled on him, "Where are the high elves? Are you going to sit by and watch?"

Finarion leveled hard eyes filled with grief on the young human, "Are you?"

Ruddy looked away. He knew why the Eladrin weren't here. He recognized the general terrain from the map and figured this was the East side of Wesfarnia. The Aeloric Conduit in this region was destroyed weeks ago. Finarion probably couldn't survive here more than a day.

His mentor's words rang in his ears. He tried to look at the ground, but an ear piercing scream split the twilight air and rebounded off the trees at his back. It took Ruddy a moment to identify the direction.

The ogre had covered the distance to the fleeing civilians in mere minutes, it had one of the wenladrin adults in a massive armored fist. Arrows pummeled its arm in a futile effort to get it drop its victim.

Blood showered the ground the wenladrin was bitten in two, the bottom half tossed to the side. The wenladrin were nearly into the forest, and, fleet-footed as they were, could have made it. The children panicked and raced in every direction. Some responded to their elder's cries and changed direction, then again when they saw the beast.

Ruddy spared only a quick glance at Finarion, who still did nothing, clearly conserving his energy to teleport them out of there. Finarion's eyes held a plea.

A child squealed as she was seized in the heavy fist of the monster. The night hordes closed in.

"Ilvanir hthratir thil-thalor," Ruddy commanded using his hands to form a rune, his eyes burning with fury.

The rune took on form of it's own hovering before the wizard, crackling with blue kinetic energy.

"Anvarir strylthil binramor," a second rune appeared next to the first.

He didn't see his mentor's eyes widening in surprise. Ruddy wouldn't have understood right away. No one had seen Homodrin magic in thousands of years. Either it had faded from Finarion's mind or this was something he'd never seen before from a novice.

Ruddy forced himself to slow down slightly and pronounce each word carefully. A mistake meant restarting the spell. He kicked himself for not practicing pronunciation more.

"Velorithar anthrahir!" 

The ogre howled in pain and dropped the child. It's belly, eyes, and chest bulged suddenly. Vines exploded from its irises, roots spilled from its belly and bound themselves around its legs and arms, and it's chest transmuted into ironwood bark. 

"Thil-thorar chyathar thil-florilar," Ruddy commanded sweeping a rune over the area where the children were milling about chased by their frantic elders.

Somewhere deep in the forest a bear looked around bemused as the berries it was munching on a moment before disappeared, along with the bush it was attached to, and the ones around it. The bushes rematerialized carpeting the area Ruddy indicated in thick vegetation.

Surrounded by familiar territory, the children calmed, quickly found their elders, and faded into the forest.

The ogre wasn't done yet. It turned its new, magically enhanced vine eyes on Ruddy and bellowed defiance.

"Oh no you don't, bastard," Ruddy muttered, "There is only one will here. MINE.

"Rylothar thil-thrayl!"

The ogre stared down the enormous rune in front of its face, growling its disgruntlement. 

"Yeah yeah, ya big bully," Ruddy muttered, "You're mine now. But hey, look on the bright side. It's not like you're going to go hungry."

Ruddy led the creature into the fringe of the forest. The night hordes poured into the forest after the fleeing Wenladrin. Their screams swallowed by the sweeping boughs and thick trunks of ancient trees.

A large number managed to flee the slaughter in the woods, only to find a regrouped and very pissed off allied company preparing to pursue. The allies surprise at seeing the beaten and blooded orcs and night elves fleeing the forest didn't sit long before they hurled themselves against their ancient enemies once again.

A handful managed to escape.

"I said 'show him' not let him fight!" Valemdar issued a curse under his breath.

"So you did, but now we know that he is not only willing to fight, but able and we couldn't have asked for better. He beat back two entire companies, supported by an ogre ancient I should add, with the help of a tattered fragmented mishmash of units who happened to be moving through the area when the attack came. Imagine what he could with a specialized unit!"

Valemdar growled and went back to pacing, "He got lucky. Talboat will hear of this. We gave away the advantage of surprise and for what? A village? Now our enemy has time to prepare while we finish Ruddy's training."

"He's ready," Finarion said simply.

"I'll decide that," Valemdar retorted, "His powers have grown, yes. But has he? Or is he still a half mad idiot who thinks this is all a...a...videogame? What happens if, in some tiny corner of his brain, he thinks that his soldier's deaths won't matter because they'll just respawn somewhere else in the world?"

"Elowyn is working on that. I think he realizes now where he is. He just needs time--"

"Time!" Valemdar spat, "Time is one thing we don't have in abundance. Wesfarnia is all but lost. They'll move into the drakon hatching grounds next. What happens when we lose our air support?"

"Ruddy won't let that happen," a soft feminine voice permeated the air.

The two elves turned to see Elowyn standing in the doorway.

"He won't," she repeated, and then was gone.